Cutting Through Glass Tears
by HighSorceressDelial
Summary: Human? Demon? Tsuzuki is determined to find out what he truly is, but it won't be easy. Muraki wants revenge for what happened in Kyoto, and he obtains his greatest desire...but does he know what that really is? Tatsumi x Tsuzuki, Muraki x Tsuzuki
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Dear wonderful and supportive readers, this story has undergone a rewrite! _**The original first two chapters have been deleted. **_The story now starts with what was once chapter three (which has now become chapter one). Not only that, but all of the chapters have been slightly revised. Nothing major has changed except the writing is a bit better now. (I hope.) Thank you for all of your comments and support throughout the years. It's meant the world to me.

* * *

It was a warm, quiet day in EnmaCho's Shokan division. It was the type of day where one could practically hear the sound of diligent bugs thrusting themselves full-forced into the light fixtures. There were no cases to go on or mysterious circumstances to investigate, and even some of the most zealous workers had allowed themselves to relax. Of course, even if there weren't any early deaths, reports still needed to be written and documents still had to be filed. In exchange for being allowed to travel between the world of the living and the world of the dead, they had to do paper work.

That was the fate of a guardian of death.

That's how Tsuzuki thought of it anyway, but as he sat in his office, he decided that he had much better plans for the day. He was just in the process of plotting his escape to the nearest bakery when he heard Tatsumi's voice over the intercom.

"_Tsuzuki-san, please report to the boardroom immediately,"_ the secretary said sternly.

Tsuzuki pushed himself away from his cluttered desk with a sigh. "Another case . . ."

He walked to the boardroom and slipped in reluctantly. Watari, Hisoka, and Konoe were already seated around a large table in the middle of the room, while Tatsumi was standing at the head of the table. The secretary's head was tilted slightly as though he were annoyed, making his short brown hair brush over the rim of his glasses. He pushed them up, making their lenses reflect the light and effectively hiding his dark blue eyes.

Chief Konoe had his hands folded over the table as he stared at Tsuzuki expectantly. "Did you forget that we had a board meeting this morning?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the table for emphasis. His face was stern, but there was a gentleness in his soft brown eyes.

"Uhh, sorry . . ." Tsuzuki said, quietly sitting down as Tatsumi picked up a folder and started explaining the case.

"Over the past three days–"

"Owww, not so loud, Tatsumi. My head is killing me . . ." Watari complained, slumping over the table with his wavy blonde hair slipping from its ponytail and swirling around his face. The scientist held his head in his hands. "Too much alcohol last night . . . Tsuzuki, I don't even know how you're conscious right now. You drank more than I did."

Tatsumi shot Watari a look of distaste and continued. "Six people have been murdered in Nagasaki. Two per night, usually in large, open areas such as parks. Only men have been killed with wounds to either the heart or stomach."

Graphic images of the murdered people appeared on the large, overhead screen behind the secretary. Something was oddly familiar about the case, but Tsuzuki couldn't seem to place it.

"The police haven't found any evidence, and the souls haven't returned, which leads me to believe that a demon is involved. Watari-san, I need you to try and find out what kind of demon it may be."

"Right," Watari mumbled into the table with his long hair completely hiding his face.

"So all we have to do is find out what's killing people, stop it, and return their souls?" Hisoka asked.

"Yes. Here is the file. You are also responsible for preventing any further deaths from occurring."

Hisoka nodded and flipped through the file as he headed out of the room, not even bothering to wait for his partner.

"Oh, Tsuzuki-san," Konoe said, stopping Tsuzuki before he could leave. "Don't forget to bring me back some cake."

"All right . . ." he sulked.

* * *

Moments after their meeting, Tsuzuki and Hisoka appeared in Nagasaki. It was nearing the end of spring, and the sakura blossoms were falling with each light breeze. The velvet petals died around them in fragile beauty, dancing like falling snow. A few pieces of the pink silk landed in Tsuzuki's auburn hair as they walked silently.

"Tsuzuki?" Hisoka asked as they walked down the street.

"Hmm?"

"How are we going to find this thing anyway?"

"Well, we could just check some open areas. All of the murders happened at night though, so we should probably just wait until then."

"Randomly wandering around at night is ridiculous. We would never find anything that way."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Tsuzuki concluded. "What do you want to do then?"

"I could always extend my empathy to scan a few places at once."

Tsuzuki gave the boy a careful look. "Hisoka, are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. The chief has been teaching me how to strengthen and control my powers."

"Ah, well if the _chief _has been teaching you, then it should be okay," Tsuzuki said playfully.

"Heh."

"So, that means we have all day then, right?"

Hisoka could almost see the puppy ears and tail sprouting. "Yes . . ." he said slowly, "why . . . ?"

Tsuzuki bounced up and down with his hands clasped together, rambling something about a new candy shop that they just _happened_ to be in front of.

Hisoka crossed his arms and looked off to the side with a sigh. "Fine. Idiot. We can go."

"Waaa! Really, Hisoka? You're so nice!" Tsuzuki's amethyst eyes sparkled happily as he dashed into the store, dragging the boy !behind him.

The two shinigami spent most of the day going from candy shop to candy shop. After Tsuzuki had collected enough candy to satisfy even him, the two shinigami found themselves sitting on a park bench as the older man instantly started to devour all five pounds of his sweets.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" Tsuzuki asked with his mouth full as he started polishing off the last bag.

"Ugh, that looks disgusting."

"What do you mean?" Tsuzuki asked, holding up a blue-jellyfish colored squishy glob and squeezing it between his fingers. He looked to his partner, hoping to get a reaction out of him, when he noticed the dark circles under the boy's eyes.

"Are you okay, Hisoka? You look a little tired."

"I didn't sleep well last night . . ." Hisoka's voice trailed off. "I know I was only imagining it, but last night, for a second . . . just a second . . . I thought I could feel Muraki."

Alarmed, Tsuzuki instantly stood up, looking around as though he would find the other man lurking behind a tree.

"He wasn't there," Hisoka added hastily. "That's why I didn't call you last night to let you know. Just, for a second, I thought he was," Hisoka said, staring blankly off into the distance.

Tsuzuki sat back down on the bench and followed Hisoka's gaze. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's just that I had a hard time falling asleep after that, but when I did . . . it wasn't me that Muraki was after . . . in my dream."

"I'm sorry, Hisoka . . ."

"Idiot, it's not your fault. It's Muraki's. You should know that," his voice was light, lacking its usual conviction. ". . . Tsuzuki?"

"Hmm?"

Hisoka looked away, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet. "I know it's none of my–I mean, I know I shouldn't ask, but . . . did Muraki . . . hurt you . . . the same way he hurt me?"

Tsuzuki peered down at the boy for a moment before answering honestly, "No."

Hisoka let out a sigh that he didn't realize he was holding. Tsuzuki smiled at him reassuringly and ruffled his hair. "Come on, it's finally starting to get dark out. Let's find that demon."

"Did Watari-san get any information for us?" Hisoka asked.

"Yeah, he said it's probably a type of demon that uses people's souls to live off of. It's still weak because it hasn't gotten many people yet, so we shouldn't have any problems with it."

"Okay, you should probably stand back, so I don't sense you too much. Just follow behind me."

The two shinigami silently hovered above Nagasaki. As they scanned the dark city, tiny lights glimmered like captured fireflies faintly lighting their way. Once Hisoka let his shields down and expanded his empathy, it didn't take him long before he found the demon.

Cold waves of hunger came crashing over his body as he instantly clenched his head in his hands. He nearly fell when he slammed his barriers back up, shielding himself from the demon's emotions.

"Come on, it's this way," Hisoka said, breathing heavily and landing in one of the nearby parks.

Tsuzuki was close behind him when he saw what they were after. The demon resembled a large lion with giant, feathered wings resting heavily on its back. Brilliant green eyes beamed out from beneath its tousled mane, searching for prey. It prowled along the edge of the park–its solid muscles supporting its weight and rippling beneath its sleek, black coat.

"I'll distract it on the other side. It'll probably want to come after me. I think it might try to run if you attack it head-on," Hisoka said.

"All right, just take this with you," Tsuzuki said, handing him a barrier fuda. Hisoka disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the park just close enough for the demon to see him. The ground rumbled slightly as the demon's huge, black paws pounded on the soft earth in his direction.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, uttering a sacred prayer. Orange and red fire filled the sky as Suzaku appeared in front of him protectively. The phoenix twisted in the air, stretching her large wings as her flaring-red eyes darted toward her target.

The demon charged at Hisoka, cracking the fuda barrier upon impact. As it shattered, Suzaku attacked, engulfing the demon in raging flames. The powerful force from the blast knocked Hisoka to the ground, unconscious.

Running forward, Tsuzuki reached Hisoka and cradled the thin boy in his arms. "Hisoka! Hisoka!"

Tsuzuki looked up in time to see Suzaku's fatal attack and the demon fall before him. The demon forced its emerald eyes open, looking directly at Tsuzuki.

Piercing the air like thunder, the demon spoke in a low growl, _"You cannot escape your past no matter how hard you may try. Your very existence is tied to his. Remember, __he__ does not care how many must die. You will find him waiting where the sakura trees are always in bloom." _The demon's heavy lids closed as its body went limp and disappeared.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked worriedly, brushing the light brown strands of hair out of the young boy's eyes.

Hisoka slowly stirred and blushed slightly when he realized that Tsuzuki was holding him.

"You were knocked out when the demon charged at you. Are you okay?"

"Oh . . . oww. Yeah, I'm fine," he cringed, pushing Tsuzuki away and rubbing the back of his head. "You destroyed it, right?"

"Yeah, it's gone. Are you sure you're okay? You should let Watari take a look at you. Come on, let's head back to the Meifu."

* * *

After the two shinigami returned to their office, they finished their report and turned it in. Meaning, Hisoka finished the report while Tsuzuki sat staring idly out the window.

"Ugh, it's late. I'm going home," Hisoka said, dropping his pen to his desk with a sigh.

"Me too. Night, Hisoka!" Tsuzuki replied with a smile.

Tsuzuki disappeared moments later–only he did not go home. He hovered over Nagasaki before landing on top of a nearby building.

"Where do the sakura trees always bloom?" he wondered out loud. "Meifu . . . then Hisoka must have really sensed him last night . . . That bastard has been watching us this whole time!" his voice rose to a shout as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Tsuzuki took a deep, shaky breath as he tried to calm himself. "He can't be there right now though. Hisoka would have known it if he was. Then where? Here?"

Since most of the sakura trees had already lost their petals, Tsuzuki decided that all he needed to do was fly around until he found one still in bloom.

About fifteen minutes later, Tsuzuki came across a small field of sakura trees. Their blossoms were bursting in full bloom with deep pink petals that faded into a shimmering, lily-white. Underneath one of the largest trees, Tsuzuki noticed an alluring pond. He landed near the edge of the silver water and looked over the surface. The smooth, liquid mercury mirrored the night sky, reflecting each faint star. Tender petals floated peacefully on the still water. A single petal shivered under a breath of wind as it drifted down, shattering the glass illusion.

The warm night air smelled sweet, teasing strands of hair into Tsuzuki's face. "This must be it," he said, wearily looking up at the house next to the pond. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of seeing Muraki again, but he knew that more people were going to die unless he did, and he preferred to get it over with.

Tsuzuki went to the door and knocked on it firmly. It opened moments later, revealing a tall man dressed in white with silver hair. A sinister smile crept across his face in delight.

"My, my, Tsuzuki-san. I wasn't expecting you so soon. Where are my manners? Come in."

Muraki stepped back, leading the shinigami into the small, dimly-lit house. As he entered, Tsuzuki found himself in a lavishly furnished living room. Ivory white candles filled the room with their flickering flames casting long, dark shadows over the walls. Attached to the living room was the bedroom, Tsuzuki could see, because there was no wall separating the two. Dulled red, orange, and brown colored blankets covered the large, four-poster bed lying against the back wall. Tsuzuki focused his attention on a porcelain doll delicately placed on an antique chair next to the bed. Candlelight illuminated its milky-white face, which contrasted sharply with the magenta hue of its dress. A similar doll, clad in a royal-blue dress, was perched on a nearby bookshelf. Its back rested against a collection of old, leather-bound books with gold lettering down their spines.

Tsuzuki could feel Muraki's eyes on him as he studied the room, and he unconsciously stepped back against the closed door.

"I'm almost done making dinner, Tsuzuki-san. Make yourself comfortable. It won't be long."

Muraki went into the kitchen while Tsuzuki removed his shoes and sat down on the large, ornate rug in the middle of the room. He kept his eyes on the floor and sat perfectly still, except for his trembling hands, which he desperately tried to control.

Moments later, Muraki returned with two plates of sizzling pork, peppers, and pineapple over rice. There was already an open bottle of sake and two glasses on the floor, which Muraki poured for both of them. The two men sat in silence as they ate slowly. Tsuzuki didn't put up a fight, and he actually ate the food, which to his annoyance, was rather good.

When they were done, Muraki stood, taking the plates with him, and returned to the kitchen. He came back with two bowls of ice cream topped with mandarin oranges and hot fudge. Tsuzuki took the bowl that was offered to him and continued to eat silently, staring intently at the ice cream in front of him. He could feel Muraki's heated gaze, and he preferred looking at the bowl.

When Tsuzuki finished, he looked up at Muraki for the first time since he arrived.

"Why did you kill those people like that?" his voice was barely above a whisper. "Why use a demon and not just do it yourself?"

"Because then you would have realized that it was me and sent half the JuOhCho to kill me. This way, I have you all to myself."

Before Tsuzuki could question him further, Muraki continued, "The first few murders I did of course. Afterwards, I had the demon do them for me. As for the wounds themselves, I'm sure you recognized them. Sometimes to the stomach, where you stabbed me, and others to the heart. I'm sure even you can figure that one out, Tsuzuki-san."

"Why do you want me here?" Tsuzuki asked in a small voice.

"At first . . . it was to bring back Saki . . ." Muraki's voice trembled as he closed his eyes. "But you killed him that night . . ."

"No! I . . . I didn't kill anyone . . ." Tsuzuki whimpered, "I don't understand . . ."

"I'm not surprised that your little shinigami friends didn't explain it to you. After I realized you had become a shinigami, I carefully planned ways to meet you. First in the church, then–"

"You, you planned for us to meet in the church?" Tsuzuki asked, confused.

"Yes."

Tsuzuki was quiet for a moment. "Then why . . . why were you crying?"

Muraki's face darkened. "It was all so beautiful . . . the perfect body to bring Saki back . . ." The doctor had apparently chosen to ignore Tsuzuki's question. His hands clenched into fists, and he suddenly stood up as he roared, "But _you_ . . . you killed Saki!"

"No! . . . No . . . I . . . I didn't mean to . . ." Tsuzuki whispered into his trembling hands.

"All. Because. Of. You," Muraki breathed as he moved closer to Tsuzuki. "You're all that's left now . . . Tsuzuki-san . . ." Muraki was close enough for Tsuzuki to feel his hot breath on his neck. "I am this way . . . because of you . . . Saki is dead . . . because of you," he murmured into Tsuzuki's ear.

Muraki guided Tsuzuki over to the bed and pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to lie down. Brushing the smaller man's hair out of his amethyst eyes, Muraki joined him.

"We deserve each other, Tsuzuki-san . . . We both kill to survive. You are no better than I am," he whispered, smelling the soft strands of silk between his fingertips. "You have no right to judge me."

"Stop . . ." Tsuzuki whimpered.

Muraki loosened Tsuzuki's restricting tie, and the fabric easily gave away and slipped off to the side. As the larger man hovered over him, Tsuzuki panicked and rolled onto his side, hoping to get off of the bed before the other man could stop him. Muraki, however, seemed to be expecting this and reached out, grabbing Tsuzuki's wrist. With a sudden jerk, he pulled Tsuzuki back to him closer than before.

Tsuzuki froze as he felt Muraki's body next to his own. Closing his eyes, he could hear Muraki's steady heartbeat against his ear, and it was somehow comforting. Muraki was still only a man . . .

Muraki spoke, cutting off his thoughts. "Now, now, Tsuzuki-san. I can't have you running off, now can I? Make no mistake. I will kill as many people as I have to until I can have you. How many are you willing to sacrifice, Tsuzuki-san? What will you tell them when they ask you why they had to die?" Muraki laughed, "Will you tell them the truth?"

Tsuzuki swallowed.

Muraki reached for the discarded tie and raised Tsuzuki's arms above his head, fastening the fabric around his wrists and the barred headboard. The larger man's hands found the hollow of Tsuzuki's neck, and he caressed the smooth, inviting skin.

"Tsuzuki-san, why have the gods turned their backs on you? You're something far more evil than any demon could ever be . . ."

Muraki's hands moved over the round buttons on Tsuzuki's shirt. Each one came undone without any resistance, and Tsuzuki's skin screamed at the touch of the burning-hot hands sliding beneath the fabric.

". . . I . . . I'm human . . . " Tsuzuki could barely whisper.

"No."

"Hisoka says so . . ."

This seemed to amuse Muraki because he smirked, gliding the rest of Tsuzuki's shirt off of his shoulders. He slowly leaned down, tenderly touching his lips against Tsuzuki's. First gentle, then harder, filled with hunger and desire for the smaller body beneath his own. Savoring each taste of the cool, sweet lips, Muraki coaxed Tsuzuki's mouth open further, deepening their kiss. He only broke their embrace to push Tsuzuki's shirt up around his wrists.

Eager hands drifted down Tsuzuki's chest and lingered around his waist, tracing his hips. Tsuzuki's body tensed, shivering at each faint touch that made his skin crawl. He turned his head away with silent tears streaming down his face as Muraki unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off.

Instead of pursuing Tsuzuki's body further, Muraki got off of the bed and walked away. Tsuzuki sighed in relief and watched the other man as he disappeared into the kitchen.

One of the windows was open, and Tsuzuki could hear the slight rustling of the sakura trees outside. The candles had already gone out, and the long, sheer drapes brushed over the floor as they caught the wind. Moonlight cascaded through the window, casting a pink and silver glow over the room. The longer Tsuzuki waited, the more he started to tremble. He hadn't realized how cold the room was without his clothes or Muraki's hands setting his skin on fire.

Muraki came back holding a dagger in his hands. The handle was made out of a dark wood engraved with ancient designs that glinted gold in the pale light. As he lay down on the bed again, he pressed the dagger into Tsuzuki's chest. Deep black blood pooled around the tip of the knife, seeping out of the new wound. Shutting his eyes, Tsuzuki winced as he tried to block out the stinging pain of the cold steel. Muraki watched in fascination as Tsuzuki's look of twisted pain faded from his face and was replaced by a slight grimace.

"Hmm? Not enough?" Muraki mused.

Not waiting for a response, he buried the knife deeper into Tsuzuki's flesh. Tsuzuki was forced to clench his teeth in pain determined not to let the other man hear him scream.

Cradling Tsuzuki's head in his hands, Muraki whispered, "Don't be afraid, Tsuzuki-san. You're safe here. I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"You . . . you won't . . . ?"

"No."

"I . . . I want my clothes back . . . and I want to be untied."

"Shhh, Tsuzuki-san, I know what you want. I can see it in your eyes when the knife licks your skin. You're more of a masochist than I am a sadist," Muraki chuckled softly.

"No! It–it hurts," Tsuzuki whimpered.

Muraki picked up the knife again and sliced it into one of Tsuzuki's wrists, dragging it down his arm. He then did the same to the other wrist and admired his work as blood spilled over Tsuzuki's arms and down his shoulders, staining the white pillows.

"I believe you enjoyed that, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki purred as he smeared the thick, hot blood over Tsuzuki's body, marveling at the beautiful sight before his eyes. Blood mingled with tears as silver light spilled into the room, setting Tsuzuki's black blood into a flame of crimson.

Yet Muraki still wasn't satisfied.

"Let go, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki clenched his teeth even tighter as Muraki slid the blade over one of his nipples.

"No," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Very well," Muraki mused. "I like a challenge."

The doctor continued to drag the knife down his chest, down his stomach, down . . . Tsuzuki's eyes flung open, and he fearfully looked at the other man.

"Stop!" he gasped.

Smirking, Muraki persisted, making a slight turn down Tsuzuki's inner thigh.

"Don't worry, Tsuzuki-san. I won't cut anything off. After all, we'll need it for later."

Muraki spread the fresh blood over the smaller man's inner thigh and licked it off effectively. His tongue was warm and wet against the open wounds, which slightly eased the stinging. Tsuzuki shivered as he felt the dull pain of Muraki's teeth biting into him. Even though Muraki had taken all of his clothes, he wasn't quite sure if he was shivering from the cold or the paralyzing fear.

"Cold, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki could only nod slightly.

"We'll just have to change that, now won't we? It's all right. I'll be gentle," Muraki murmured soothingly. He let go of his painful grip on the smaller man's thighs and started stroking him carefully.

Tsuzuki's body froze at the touch.

"Mu– . . . Muraki! . . . St– . . . Stop! You said that you'd stop if I didn't want–"

"Tsuzuki-san, your body is telling me otherwise," Muraki sneered.

Tsuzuki was horrified to find that his body had betrayed him.

Tightening his grip, Muraki jerked his hand upward pleased to hear Tsuzuki's harsh gasp. Tears trickled down his cheeks in glistening silver streams as he wept silently. He only let out a pleading cry when Muraki lowered his head to his hands, taking him into his mouth.

"All right, Tsuzuki-san. I'll stop."

Tsuzuki looked at him in surprise. "You will?" he managed.

"Yes."

Muraki got off of the bed and walked over to the chair in the room. He stripped silently, revealing white bandages stained with blood wrapped around his waist. Tsuzuki took this opportunity to struggle, trying to get his hands to slip through the tight bonds. He turned over onto his stomach so that he could see better and tried to pick at the knot with his fingertips. Muraki watched in amusement as he placed his carefully folded clothes on the chair and returned to the bed.

"We'll do something else then," he purred into Tsuzuki's ear.

"Wha . . . what?"

"You'll see."

Muraki rested his back against the headboard and forced Tsuzuki between his bent legs. Closer to the larger man than he liked, Tsuzuki struggled, but he was at an awkward angle with his arms still tied. Muraki grabbed his jaw and squeezed, forcing his mouth open and guiding his head down, letting the shinigami taste all of him.

Tsuzuki choked, and Muraki loosened his hold on him. He could feel the hard pulsing in his mouth as Muraki let him come up only to be pushed back down again. The act made him sick, and Tsuzuki fought back the rising fear in his chest. He tried to break free, but Muraki's firm grip was only increasing.

_Oh God, make it stop . . ._

A deep growl rose from Muraki's throat, and Tsuzuki began to sob.

"There," Muraki whispered.

Tsuzuki looked up in confusion as the larger man released him.

Muraki turned Tsuzuki over so that he was lying on his back again. Reaching over to the night stand, Muraki pulled a bottle out of the drawer and generously covered his hands with liquid before putting it back.

"We deserve each other, Tsuzuki-san . . ." he whispered softly, pressing one of his fingers up against Tsuzuki's opening before sliding it in. A second finger joined the first, probing deep inside and spreading the cold lubricant. Tsuzuki inhaled sharply and fought to distance himself from Muraki's long fingers.

Slowly, Muraki draped himself over Tsuzuki, pinning him to the bed and immersing him in the mingling scent of sakura blossoms and raspberries.

He positioned himself before gradually pushing into the smaller man. Tsuzuki's entire body went rigid as he let out a cry of pain. He could feel all of Muraki's weight pressing into him, and the pressure was almost too much to bear. A twisted grin crept across Muraki's face as he made the shinigami whimper and tremble.

_. . . Oh God . . . oh God . . ._ _!_

"St–stop! . . . Mu–Muraki!" was all that Tsuzuki could manage. As Muraki thrust upward, Tsuzuki's back arched and his head dug into the pillow. He could feel Muraki's quivering muscles against his thighs as he rocked forward.

_. . . It hurts . . . please . . . please_ _make it stop . . ._

Tsuzuki's hands clenched at the bars that tied them as he gasped for breath with his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

_. . . Why? . . . Why does it feel like this . . ._ _?_

"Mu. . . Muraki . . ." he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut as the larger man fiercely plunged harder and deeper into him, making his body start to shake. Tsuzuki's panic increased as he felt as though he wouldn't be able to take the pressure much longer. He could feel Muraki throbbing inside of him; the stretched feeling made his whole body seem to shudder with pleasure, and he _hated_ it.

_. . . It shouldn't feel like this . . ._

Muraki tangled his hands in Tsuzuki's silky hair and watched in anticipation as the shinigami's face twisted in pain and pleasure. He drove into him with raging force and desire when he suddenly stopped, removing himself from Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki opened his eyes, not even realizing that they had closed, and looked questioningly at Muraki. The larger man simply smiled back. Then Tsuzuki realized why; the unbearable pain that he experienced now was burning into him. He felt vulnerable and empty with his legs spread and Muraki sitting in between them, looking down at him. He shuddered, trying to gain control of his body again, but the emptiness was too much to bear. He let out a low moan as he tried to close his legs and push closer to Muraki.

_. . . It . . . it shouldn't . . ._

"Oh? You wanted us to finish?" Muraki mused, making sure that Tsuzuki could not reach him.

Unsure of how to make the pleasurable pain go away, Tsuzuki only squirmed uncomfortably.

"Say please," Muraki said, smiling at Tsuzuki's obvious discomfort.

Fear and hatred flared across Tsuzuki's amethyst eyes as he met Muraki's gaze.

This only made Muraki laugh and whisper dangerously, "Beg for me, Tsuzuki-san. Beg for me."

Tsuzuki clenched his teeth as Muraki spread his legs and teased him, sliding his long, slender fingers in and out skillfully.

"Beg," Muraki growled, pushing his fingers inward suddenly.

A sharp cry escaped Tsuzuki's lips. The pain was too much.

"P . . . please . . . Muraki . . . please . . ."

Muraki lay back down on top of Tsuzuki and thrust inward violently, sending the smaller man deeper into the bed and gasping for breath.

"If you promise to be good, I'll untie you," he murmured, nipping at Tsuzuki's ear.

Tsuzuki could only nod his head in agreement. The feeling came back to his hands as he massaged them, but it wasn't long before he was forced to clench Muraki's back. His hands moved over the soft, pale skin glistening with sweat. He could feel every strong muscle in Muraki's back heaving in animalistic rhythm.

"Tsuzuki-san, you are _mine_," Muraki said in a raw, lustful voice as he rocked against the smaller man.

Tsuzuki's cries grew louder, and he dug his fingers into Muraki's back, drawing blood. He could feel the larger man pulsing inside of him until he finally couldn't hold back any longer. He screamed out, throwing his head back and pulling Muraki in even deeper. Muraki bit down on Tsuzuki's neck, muffling his own cries as he released himself into the shinigami, quivering in convulsions with the smaller man beneath him.

As Muraki collapsed on top of Tsuzuki, clouds drifted over the moon, drowning the room in darkness. All that could be heard was the shallow gasping of air from the two men. Tsuzuki felt oddly physically closer to Muraki. The larger man was still on top of him, resting his head next to his own and kissing his temple. He cupped Tsuzuki's head in his hands and wiped away the blood stained tears.

"Tsuzuki-san . . . my love . . ." was all that he said.

* * *

Tsuzuki woke as he was lifted off of the bed in Muraki's arms. He was vaguely aware of being carried when he sank back into unconsciousness.

"Tsuzuki-san, you seem to have made a mess all over yourself . . ."

Muraki took him into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The bathroom was not large, but the shower was big enough for two people. Steam filled the small room and fogged the mirror as Muraki placed Tsuzuki on the shower floor. He carefully removed his bandages before stepping into the shower next to the smaller man. The water hissed and steamed, running over their bodies as Muraki gently started to wash the blood off of Tsuzuki's neck and chest.

"My beautiful Tsuzuki-san . . . covered in so much blood . . ."

The unconscious shinigami stared ahead blankly, letting Muraki caress him and wash away the crimson tears. His amethyst eyes were wide and dull like stained glass. Their violet fire had gone out, and all that was left was a look of despair.

"Tsuzuki-san, you need to stand up now. We need to wash the blood from your hair," Muraki murmured, gingerly placing his fingers underneath Tsuzuki's chin and turning his head so that the smaller man was facing him.

Tsuzuki looked at Muraki, suddenly realizing that the other man was there. Muraki helped Tsuzuki stand, supporting his weight as Tsuzuki leaned on him and drifted back into unconsciousness. With one arm around his waist, Muraki used his free hand to brush the dark strands of hair out of Tsuzuki's eyes and to wash out the dried blood.

"You wouldn't want your little shinigami friends finding out what you've done, now would you?" Muraki asked.

Tsuzuki's head rested against Muraki's shoulder unable to answer. Tsuzuki was shivering even though the glistening drops of water seared his raw skin. The water spit and crackled as it hit the shower walls, swirling with thin streams of blood as it twisted down the drain.

While still supporting him, Muraki turned off the scalding water and wrapped Tsuzuki in a towel. Tsuzuki let out a small whimper as Muraki lifted him and carried him back into the bedroom.

"Sleep now, my love," Muraki whispered, covering Tsuzuki with a blanket. He placed a protective arm around the smaller man, and Tsuzuki unconsciously curled up to the warm body next to his.

* * *

The next morning, Tsuzuki's whole body ached. He vaguely wondered why he was so sore and rolled over, trying to make himself more comfortable. The previous day came flooding back to him as he realized that Muraki was sleeping next to him. Tsuzuki instinctively flinched away, scrambling to get off of the bed and to fight down his panic. His pounding heart caught in his throat as he desperately searched for his clothes. Once he found them, he took one last glance at Muraki to make sure that he was still asleep. The other man was resting peacefully with silver strands of hair over his eyes. Each strand gleamed brilliant-white in the morning sun. The sheets on the bed had slipped down during the night, revealing a wound on Muraki's side. Tsuzuki gasped inwardly and disappeared from the room.

* * *

Tsuzuki reappeared in his apartment in the Meifu. He curled up into a ball on the floor with a blanket wrapped around him and let out a strangled sob.


	2. Chapter 2

"Tsuzuki-san, you're late," Tatsumi said sternly, stopping in the hallway in front of the smaller man.

Tsuzuki tilted his head to the side, showing an innocent smile. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, I over slept."

"I suggest that you do not let it happen again, or do I need to remind you of the damages that you still have not paid off?"

Tsuzuki cowered slightly under Tatsumi's glare. "No, no, I'll be on time . . ."

"Good," the secretary smiled pleasantly and continued down the hallway.

Nudging his office door open, Tsuzuki sighed in relief. He didn't think that Tatsumi was going to let him off that easily.

"Where have you been?" Hisoka asked once Tsuzuki was inside. "You're over half an hour late."

"Over slept," Tsuzuki replied, sitting down at his desk and looking critically at his paperwork. Random papers were scattered over his desk, hiding the worn wood. A small stack of documents desperately clung to the edge of the desk, threatening to fall.

"Do we really have to do all of this?" he whined, waving a hand at the mess in front of him.

"Yeah. You know, if you just did it after every case it wouldn't pile up so much."

Tsuzuki pouted, resting his elbows on his desk and putting his head in his hands. "Yeah, I know . . ."

* * *

"Tsuzuki. _Tsuzuki!_"

"Huh, wha?" Tsuzuki lifted his head, turning to Hisoka.

"You've been staring at the same paper for over an hour now," Hisoka said dryly.

"I have? Oh, right. Sorry, Hisoka!"

"Idiot, just keep working, okay? I'm not going to stay late just to help you finish."

* * *

"Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki? Come on, Tsuzuki. It's lunch time," Hisoka said, giving his partner a careful look.

"Wha? Really? Already?"

"Yeah. What's with you today anyway? You keep spacing out."

"I think it's all of the paperwork," Tsuzuki sighed heavily. "It's endless!"

"Only when you don't _do_ it," Hisoka said, exasperated.

"Heh, heh, yeah, I suppose . . . lunch!" Tsuzuki hopped out of his chair and bounded toward the break room.

After getting his food, Tsuzuki sat down at one of the long tables in the middle of the room and started to eat. His turkey sandwich tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced himself to swallow the dry mass anyway. A stale piece of cheese dangled from the edge of his bread, flopping down onto his plate as he suddenly jolted away from the table.

Tatsumi's hand froze where it was. He was sitting across the table from Tsuzuki when he noticed a piece of lettuce on the side of the smaller man's mouth. He had only reached up with his napkin to wipe it off when Tsuzuki jumped.

"Tsuzuki-san . . . ?" Tatsumi asked, hesitating slightly after seeing the frightened look in the other man's eyes.

"Oh, sorry, Tatsumi. I didn't realize that you were there."

Tatsumi only nodded and went back to eating his lunch. He had been sitting there for over ten minutes.

Abruptly, Tsuzuki pushed himself away from the table and walked out of the room, leaving his lunch behind.

"What's up with him?" Watari asked, taking Tsuzuki's chair. It was uncharacteristic of the other man to abandon an unfinished meal.

"I don't know," Tatsumi responded, easily hiding his worry.

Hisoka sat down next to Watari. "He's been acting weird all day. He was late to work, and then he was spacing out for about three hours straight. He didn't even hear me when I was talking to him."

Watari rested his head in his hands and looked upwards deep in thought. "Well, I suppose it makes sense. I mean, it's only been a few months since Muraki had him in Kyoto, and right afterwards he just pretended like he was fine. What happened is probably starting to sink in."

Tatsumi looked out the large window that extended across one wall as a slight movement caught his eye. Tsuzuki was sitting under one of the sakura trees.

"Think we should go talk to him?" Hisoka asked.

Watari followed Tatsumi's gaze. "No, not yet at least. Let's give him a few days to work it out on his own. I think he just wants to be alone right now."

"All right, we should get back to work then," Tatsumi said and stood to leave.

* * *

The next few hours seemed to drag on endlessly for Tsuzuki. He had returned to his office only to stare at his paperwork even though he really didn't see any of it.

"Want to get some dinner with me?" Hisoka asked once the clock's hour hand crawled onto the five.

"Not tonight, I'm kinda tired. I think I'm just going to go home and get some sleep. Night, Hisoka."

"Okay, g'night."

Hisoka had barely finished his sentence when Tsuzuki disappeared from the room.

Only Tsuzuki did not go home.

The shinigami was surprised to find himself on ChiJou, standing in front of Muraki's house. He raised a shaky hand to knock on the door before pausing and putting it back down again. Tsuzuki really wasn't sure what he was doing there, considering he was planning on going straight home. Right as he decided to teleport back to the Meifu, the door swung open.

Muraki stood in the doorway, looking immaculate as usual in his white suit and thinly framed glasses. His silver eyes widened slightly in astonishment, which he quickly hid.

"Tsuzuki-san, what a pleasant surprise. Come in."

Tsuzuki's rapidly beating heart thudded painfully in his chest as he went inside wordlessly. Unlike the night before, there were no candles in the room. Light seeped in through the open window as the sun began to hide behind the horizon; its last few bronze streaks timidly peered into the room, splashing a hint of gold at the bookshelf on the opposite wall. The rest of the house was consumed in long, haunting shadows, almost as though it was purposely being hid, like a grotesque secret that must be kept out of sight.

"Would you like something to eat?" Muraki asked, stepping out of the darkness.

"No . . . thanks . . ." Tsuzuki said quietly as he looked down at the floor.

"All right, that leaves more time for . . . us."

Within seconds, Muraki had Tsuzuki pinned against the door with hungry, fierce kisses. He bit down on the shinigami's lower lip and sucked on the metallic tasting blood before pulling away and leading him onto the rug.

"Wait here," Muraki instructed.

As he disappeared into the bathroom, Tsuzuki glanced quickly at the door. He knew that he should try to escape while he still could, but his legs refused to obey him.

Moments later, Muraki returned with a thick blanket, which Tsuzuki eyed uncertainly as it was spread over the rug. Muraki raised an eyebrow at Tsuzuki's confusion. "Would you rather you made a mess all over the floor?"

Tsuzuki only blushed.

"Now, lie down."

Tsuzuki obeyed, closing his eyes and suppressing a shiver as the larger man settled on top of him. A chilled breeze slithered over his body as Muraki stripped away each offensive layer of clothing. He was only vaguely aware of the biting pain of the handcuffs like a ravenous serpent, binding his wrists and sinking its venomous fangs into his flesh. Even the rhythmic motion of the man on top and the blood pounding in his ears went unnoticed. It didn't matter. He was already broken, and he knew it. Muraki was the only one who would ever give him what he needed even if it was like a poison coursing through his veins, tainting him with every sinful breath he took. His mind went numb as his vision blurred, but at least he could still feel pain.

* * *

Pain.

The pain increased, and Tsuzuki wondered why it hurt so much.

"Tsuzuki-san, I see you've finally decided to come back to me."

After seeing the smaller man's confused look, Muraki clarified, "You've been unconscious for a while now."

Tsuzuki shifted and realized that Muraki wasn't inside of him. Something _else_ was.

". . . Wha?" he managed in between ragged gasps.

"The knife is just a replacement. There's no sense in wasting my energy while you're unconscious. Besides, I needed to wake you up somehow, didn't I?" Muraki teased.

A piercing wave of panic swept over Tsuzuki in sudden realization. He could see the dark, mahogany colored wood of the dagger with an intricately carved black dragon coiled around the hilt. Its tiny ruby eyes gleamed as the wavy metal of the blade repeatedly disappeared inside of him.

". . . _Nnnh_ . . ."

"Even this makes you hard," Muraki growled, snapping his wrist forward.

Tsuzuki's body went rigid as he choked out in pain. Nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating agony that each hard thrust sent through him like bolts of electricity, surging through every cell of his body until he was certain that he would shatter as though he were one of Muraki's porcelain dolls. Each of his cries only served to drive Muraki further into depravity until the larger man reached such a frenzied pace that Tsuzuki was blinded to everything else around him as he faded out of consciousness.

* * *

_Blood. _

_Blood everywhere. _

_So much blood . . . _

_No! I . . . I didn't . . ._

The familiar stench of iron assaulted Tsuzuki's nostrils, forcing his eyes open. It took him a few moments to realize that the blood was his own, and he made a conscious effort to relax his pain-wracked body.

"Tsuzuki-san, if you don't stay awake, you'll have to be punished," Muraki warned, removing the knife.

Tsuzuki threw his head back into the blanket and let out a strangled scream as the knife ripped through the sensitive tissue.

"_Muraki!_" he gasped. His was voice raw with pain as he fisted the blood-soaked blanket, turning his knuckles white.

"What, you're not going to beg for me?" he asked, getting a firm hold on Tsuzuki's arousal.

"Never," Tsuzuki spat.

"My, my, how quickly we forget, Tsuzuki-san. What do you think you were doing just last night?" he smiled, flicking a lick over Tsuzuki's exposed neck.

"Fuck you. Just . . . just do it already."

"If you insist . . ."

Muraki gazed upon Tsuzuki's flawless flesh, and a look of hunger flashed across his eyes; he would gladly devour the smaller man. The knife slid across the shinigami's stomach and continued up and down his chest, leaving thin streams of blood behind. Muraki leaned down, carefully lapping up the dark blood as though it were the juice from the forbidden fruit. They were both deluged in the thick, sweet nectar as the skilled tongue explored every deep gash on Tsuzuki's body, making him shiver when the soft sucking stopped.

Muraki inhaled sharply and nearly collapsed on top of Tsuzuki. Their encounter in Kyoto had left him magically drained and far weaker than he was willing to admit. Human blood was diluted and insufficient compared to a shinigami's, but he had been too exhausted the night before to fully realize the potent effects that the shinigami had on him. Feeding off of Tsuzuki was intoxicating. Far more so than he had ever imagined.

The last shreds of sunlight had long ago disappeared, and even though Muraki was pressed up against his body, for a few moments, Tsuzuki could barely see the other man in the darkened room. Instead, he paid attention to the heavy breathing in his ear. Each slow, sultry breath was deliberate and labored with every rise and fall of the larger man's chest. He had a soft, raspy catch to his voice as he whispered almost inaudibly into Tsuzuki's ear,_ "Die for me, Tsuzuki-san. Die a thousand times over_ . . ._"_

Muraki supported himself on his hands and watched Tsuzuki's face in bloodthirsty anticipation as he slid into him with one quick thrust. Tsuzuki responded with a sharp cry, digging his fingers into the palms of his hands. Minuscule beads of blood formed beneath his nails while he wrenched against the cold steel of the handcuffs. He turned his head away as Muraki increased the dull ache that was previously left. His jaw was tight with tension, and he could feel the fierce rage burning behind his eyes as he refused to look at the other man.

"Oh? Think it will hurt without any lubricant, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki chuckled. "Most likely, but there is enough blood . . . it should make a good replacement," he purred almost mockingly into his ear.

Tsuzuki grit his teeth in pain as Muraki rocked into him with a wild thirst for more. As his legs were forced up over Muraki's shoulders, he lifted his wrists and put them around the back of the larger man's neck, drawing him in even deeper. Strained muscles covered in sticky sweat and hot blood shimmered in an unearthly, flaming-red silver as they quivered uncontrollably. Muraki's eyes feasted on his rare capture's face twisted in pleasure and agony. He savored the empowering sight like a delicacy as he plunged into the withering form beneath his own.

The raw, sickening smell of sex and blood choked the air as their cries wracked the small house. Muraki didn't hold back any longer as he pounded toward the white-hot center. He gripped Tsuzuki's shoulders for support, fervently tearing away at the bruised skin until he reached bone. It was primitive, mindless fucking. The larger man was ramming Tsuzuki so hard that he was sure Muraki would rip him open completely. The agonizing throbbing and swelling forced his eyes shut as heart-rendering screams tore out from his shredded throat. Once he felt Muraki release the scorching hot liquid inside of him, a wave of ecstasy washed over his entire body. He was overcome with the ultimate humiliation when his own sticky, white liquid spilled onto his chest as his body jerked and arched in violent spasms.

* * *

Tsuzuki woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. He turned, expecting to see Muraki sleeping next to him, but he was alone on the floor. He reached for his clothes and inwardly shuddered as he saw the dried blood on himself and on the blanket.

Seconds later, Tsuzuki was back in his Meifu apartment. He staggered into the bathroom in pain, ignoring his tears.

* * *

"Tsuzuki-san, you're late again," Tatsumi said as Tsuzuki appeared in his and Hisoka's office.

"Yeah . . . Sorry, Tatsumi. I think my alarm clock is broken. I really need to get it fixed," Tsuzuki said with the lie easily slipping out.

The secretary gave him a close look, but he only nodded and left the room.

"Thought you could just teleport into our office and hope that Tatsumi-san wouldn't realize that you were late?" Hisoka asked.

"Yeah, kinda. It would have worked too if he wasn't already in here."

* * *

Over the next few hours, the two shinigami attempted to make a dent in the stack of papers that covered Tsuzuki's desk. Hisoka had moodily agreed to help his partner only after seeing half of the papers strewn about the floor. Despite his attempts, the boy was convinced that he saw one fly out of the window.

Right before it was time for lunch, Tsuzuki stood up and walked out of the room wordlessly. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, but he desperately needed the time alone. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he tilted his head down and made his way outside. The air's rich, sakura aroma offered him no solace as he walked along the familiar path. It smelled like _him_.

Once Tsuzuki was a safe distance away from the building, he sat down on the soft grass and leaned against one of the sakura trees. The nectarous summer haze failed to warm his shivering body as he watched the shredded pink glide through the air on wisps of wind. Between the canopy of blossoms, the azure sky contrasted noticeably with the waves of velvet. A slight breeze dipped down, whispering kisses into his ear and fluttering tiny petals up like pale quartz in a crystal dome.

Tsuzuki knew that if he continued to go outside, the others would start to ask questions; tomorrow he would go back and sit with them during lunch. He would just have to keep pretending and acting happy. Pretending. More pretending. It's not like it was hard. He did it so often that sometimes he couldn't even remember if he was actually happy or not. It didn't matter though, not really. As long as no one called him out on it, he was just fine with acting for another seventy years. It's not like it would be a very big change; he would just have more to hide that's all.

* * *

Tsuzuki went back to Muraki's house that night, but instead of going to the door, he stood under the safety of the sakura trees on the other side of the pond. He rested his hand against the trunk of a tree as he looked toward the small house. Muraki was sitting on the windowsill, reading a book, while his lustrous, silver hair hung low, covering his eyes. It had only been last night when those same strands of moonlit hair had brushed over the sides of his face . . . Tsuzuki's grip unconsciously tightened, and he suddenly became aware of the rough bark beneath his fingertips. His eyes wandered to the shimmering black pond; it was just as placid as the first time he saw it except there were no petals floating on the surface now. He stared into the dark depths of the water. Would Muraki be expecting him? He shook his head. No, it wouldn't matter because he wasn't going to go back there again. He was just going to watch for a moment longer and then leave . . .

"I agree. It's much nicer out here," a voice over his shoulder said.

Tsuzuki spun around to find Muraki standing behind him.

"M–Muraki!"

Muraki chuckled and leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against Tsuzuki's. "Miss me, Tsuzuki-san? I'll make you mine right here if you'd like."

Tsuzuki froze at the sight of Muraki's black silhouette against the swollen, vermilion moon. The larger man took advantage of this and laid him down on the thick bed of grass and satiny petals, slowly peeling away his clothing like the blossoming of a rose. His feather-light touch drifted over the smaller man, sensing the pulsing life in his vulnerable neck and moistened, parted lips. Tsuzuki trembled like a frightened animal and braced himself for the pain that was soon to follow, but it never came.

Moonlight bathed the two bodies in its luminous glow as they embraced. The shelter of trees rustled beneath the wind, shivering under their burden. Disturbed, the enchanted blossoms woke from their mystical slumber. The silky petals shuddered as the piercing wind stripped them from their havens. Slashed and mangled, the innocent buds desperately clung to their last moments of heaven before they descended down around the two men, joining the other sacrificed petals which had already blanketed the warm earth.

Pressed together, the larger man took him slowly, whispering promises of more to come. Their moans lulled the night air as the blood red moon loomed down upon them, watching their act against God.

Now, choking on their own dew, the flowers lay on the steamy earth. Their lingering fragrance lost on the blasphemous.

* * *

Tsuzuki stirred slightly as he heard his name being called. With his eyes still closed, he could feel the soft padding of the grass under the fabric of Muraki's trench coat. He sleepily opened his eyes and found himself looking across the surface of the pond, which was only a few yards away. Delicate butterflies with sapphire wings and golden tips fluttered across the glistening water, touching down on the grass every so often for a taste of the morning dew.

"Tsuzuki-san, you need to wake up now. You wouldn't want to be late for work again, now would you?"

Tsuzuki instantly recoiled when he realized that Muraki was still holding him. Both days before, Muraki was either sleeping or not there at all, and Tsuzuki panicked, slightly unsure of what to do. He looked at his clothes and then back up at Muraki.

Muraki understood his silent question and nodded. "Get dressed and go to work. I'll see you tonight."

Tsuzuki put his clothes on and went back to the Meifu. He didn't question or challenge Muraki's last statement.

* * *

Tsuzuki teleported into his office that morning relieved to find that Tatsumi was not there.

"Don't look so happy," Hisoka said, noticing Tsuzuki's arrival. "Tatsumi-san was just in here, so he already knows that you're late again."

"Ugh," Tsuzuki pouted. "Figures."

"Come on, if you do enough work today, he probably won't care as much."

"But Hisoookaaa, I don't _want_ to do work."

Hisoka leveled his partner with a dark glare, which made him promptly jump and sit down at his desk.

* * *

During lunch, Tsuzuki slipped out of the office to sit outside again. He had promised himself that he wouldn't, but he couldn't help it; he hadn't expected the previous night to go how it did. It was . . . different somehow. Muraki was . . . _gentle_ . . . but why the sudden change? It was almost like being with the man and not the murderer.

Tsuzuki looked up as he heard the sound of quiet footsteps approaching him on the grass. He saw Tatsumi walking toward him, holding a tray of food, and he managed a weak smile for the other man.

"Tsuzuki-san, it's not good for you to miss lunch like this," Tatsumi said, sitting down next to his former partner.

He placed the tray on the grass next to him and handed Tsuzuki a bowl of soup before taking his own.

"Thank you . . . Tatsumi."

Tatsumi nodded and looked down at his bowl. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

"Tsuzuki-san, you only come here when something is on your mind . . ."

"Yeah, I guess you're right . . ."

Even though the tone of his voice was light, Tatsumi knew that Tsuzuki wasn't going to offer him any more information than that. Neither man spoke while they ate, finding peace in the silence.

When they were done, Tsuzuki looked off into the distance.

"Tatsumi?"

"Hmm?"

"It's kind of sad, isn't it . . . that the blossoms have to die . . . They desperately struggle to cling to life, but it doesn't even matter . . ." Tsuzuki looked down into his lap. His voice was timid and almost childlike when he spoke again. "Do you think they feel guilty?"

"Guilty? Why?" Tatsumi asked slightly confused.

"Because even though they try to survive, with their death comes new life. If they never died, there would never be any new trees . . ."

"I suppose so . . ."

"Or maybe they just want to die so that others can live . . ."

"All things struggle to survive. I think it would go against their nature to want to die."

"Maybe . . ." Tsuzuki looked down at the watch that covered his right wrist. "We should get back."

"Ts–Tsuzuki-san . . ."

* * *

Three weeks passed, and Tsuzuki went back to see Muraki every night. Muraki ended up setting his alarm clock in the mornings so that Tsuzuki wouldn't draw attention to himself by oversleeping.

As time went on, Hisoka steadily grew more and more worried about Tsuzuki until it was finally serious enough to ask Tatsumi. After work, the secretary was still in his spacious office seated behind his desk with Watari sitting across from him on the couch. Hisoka gave the door a courtesy knock before stepping into the room.

"Tatsumi-san?" Hisoka asked, closing the door behind him and standing awkwardly in front of Tatsumi's desk. He shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously.

"Yes, Kurosaki-kun?"

Hisoka took a deep breath. "I think something's wrong with Tsuzuki."

"What do you mean?" Watari asked.

"Well, he's been acting kind of strange lately, so I've been trying to get really close to him, so that I could find out why . . ."

"And?" Tatsumi prompted.

"And nothing. That's just it. When I touched him, I felt nothing at all. It's like he's not even there. The thing is, I almost always hear him. Even when I'm sleeping, I can't get his babbling out of my head. But now . . . it's like he's slowly slipping away, and I can't figure out why."

Tatsumi pushed his glasses up and remained quiet for a moment before asking, "Have you mentioned this to the chief?"

"No . . . I wanted to ask you about it first."

"All right, I will inform him about this tomorrow morning."

"Tatsumi-san, why do you think he's been acting like this?"

"I don't know, but as his partner, you need to talk to him about it. I cannot allow this to start affecting his field performance."

"Okay, I'll try talking to him tonight. A little earlier he said that he was going home."

"Good luck, Bon."

"Oh, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Yes?" he said, stopping in the doorway.

"I was just telling Watari-san about his new partner. He will be starting tomorrow morning."

"Oh, okay."


	3. Chapter 3

The air was warm and soft against Hisoka's cheeks as he walked along the gravel path toward Tsuzuki's apartment. He could have teleported, but it wasn't very far, and he wanted the extra time to think of what he was going to say. He knew that the chances of the older shinigami opening up to him were slim, but he still had to try.

Hisoka shoved his shaking hands into his pockets. This conversation was not going to be easy. He didn't want to admit it, but he was silently upset with himself. He was Tsuzuki's partner; how could it have taken him so long to notice that something was wrong? At first, nothing really seemed out of place in the other man's behavior. No red flags. No ringing alarms. However, in retrospect, the changes were painfully obvious. His partner, who was once filled with so much passion and emotion, was now only an empty shell. The only thing that Hisoka knew was that whatever it was had to have happened gradually. It was the only explanation for why he didn't realize that something was wrong sooner.

Reaching the apartment building, Hisoka went up the steps and rang the doorbell. He waited a few moments before ringing it again, but there was no answer. Tsuzuki owned one of the corner apartments on the main floor, so Hisoka carefully leaned over the edge of the railing and looked in through the living room window. White, lace curtains blocked part of his view, but he could tell that Tsuzuki wasn't inside. He made his way around the side of the building and tentatively peered in through his partner's bedroom window. The room was dark and empty, but for some reason, all of the blankets were in a small pile on the floor, leaving the bed completely bare with no sign of the older man. Hisoka sighed and sat down on the front steps, bringing his knees up to his chest. Shivering slightly, he tightened his denim jacket around his body and cast a frustrated glance off into the distance. The sakura loomed overhead, and he glared at one for good measure. It was one thing to have to wait for the other man, but it was another to have to do it outside at night. He figured that Tsuzuki probably just went out for some ice cream and would be back soon, but that still didn't mean that he had to like it.

* * *

Hisoka blearily rubbed his eyes, trying to wade through the murky layers of unconsciousness. He blinked at the sidewalk several times before he realized that he must have fallen asleep waiting for Tsuzuki. He guessed that it was probably around two in the morning, but he knew that Tsuzuki wouldn't just leave him on his doorstep. A quick check confirmed that Tsuzuki still wasn't home.

_Idiot, where the heck are you?_ he thought sleepily before drifting off again.

* * *

The next morning, Hisoka woke to a dull pain in his neck.

"Ugh, I shouldn't have slept like that . . ." he mumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck.

When he realized that the apartment was still empty, his grogginess turned to annoyance. Now, not only was he going to be late to work because of that idiot, but his neck was going to hurt all day too.

He teleported into his office to find Tsuzuki slouched leisurely over his desk, nibbling on the end of his pen and looking down at a piece of paper intently.

_Leave it to Tsuzuki to actually be working when I want to yell at him,_ Hisoka thought in exasperation.

"Morning, Hisoka!" Tsuzuki greeted, taking the pen out of his mouth.

"Morning," Hisoka grumbled as he sank down into the chair behind his desk.

Tsuzuki took a closer look at the boy, noticing the way his tawny hair fell haphazardly in front of his eyes. A few strands were even sticking up in the back, and underneath his slightly rumpled jacket, he looked like he was wearing the same orange sweater from yesterday.

"Did you sleep okay?" Tsuzuki asked worriedly, taking on his best parental tone. "You don't look too good. You know, it's important to get enough–"

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka cut him off. "Where were you last night? I thought you said you were going home?"

It was only for an instant, but Hisoka could have sworn that he saw Tsuzuki pale.

"I–I went to buy some apple pie first, but there was a pretty long line . . ."

"A line that you were standing in all night long?" Hisoka asked skeptically.

Tsuzuki only looked down, letting strands of dark auburn hair fall in front of his eyes. His hands formed tight fists under the cover of his desk, and he took a moment to try to steady his voice.

Hisoka waited for an answer, but the longer Tsuzuki stayed silent, the more he began to worry. It wasn't like Tsuzuki to lie to him.

"Tsuzuki . . ." Hisoka said gently, "Where were you last night? And don't lie to me again. I went to your apartment. I know you never went home."

"I . . ." Tsuzuki's voice caught in his throat. "It's none of your business, Hisoka," he said softly.

"Tsuzuki . . . I was waiting for you last night because I wanted to talk to you. You're . . . you're just empty. Why? Just . . . just let me in, Tsuzuki. Why don't you trust me enough to tell me?"

"That's none of your business, Hisoka," Tsuzuki repeated harshly, looking up to meet the boy's green eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do," he said, efficiently ending their conversation.

Determined not to let Tsuzuki's cold tone bother him, Hisoka walked out of the room and headed straight for Tatsumi's office. He went in without knocking and took the chair in front of older man's desk.

"What happened?" the secretary asked, reading the look on the boy's face.

"Tsuzuki never went home last night. I ended up falling asleep while I was waiting for him, and when I got here this morning, he was already at his desk."

"Do you know where he was?"

"No."

Tatsumi's expression darkened. "Have you asked him about it?"

"Yeah, Tatsumi-san, he lied to me. He's _never_ lied to me before. He said that he was waiting in line for apple pie, so he got home pretty late, and when I asked him what was wrong, he wouldn't even answer me."

"I see. I want you to go back to his apartment tonight and make sure that he's there. He might be more willing to talk then."

Although he was uncertain whether or not Tatsumi's plan would work, Hisoka nodded and left the room. On the way back to his office, he was surprised to pass a man that he had never seen before. It was strange to see a new face, considering he hadn't met anyone new to the bureau in over a year. The man looked up from the sheet of paper that he was holding and smiled disarmingly as he went into Tatsumi's office.

* * *

"I'm so close . . . so close . . ." Watari murmured to himself as he flicked his wrist, carefully swirling a clear liquid around in a flask and watching intently as it turned a deep, damask red.

There was no one else in his massive lab to see him beaming or nearly jumping up and down in excitement. Most employees made it a rule to avoid the scientist's lab at all costs for fear of getting blown up, or worse, tested on.

However, the lab didn't look particularly threatening. Blacktop tables were covered in flasks and pipettes, and one of the walls was lined with shelves of potions and various chemicals. In the back of the lab, Watari had a very bare office, which mostly went unused. Next to it was a small room with a futon, a night stand, and a chair. Clothes were thrown carelessly in all corners of the room along with small scraps of paper covered in an illegible scrawl. After the first few years of constantly falling asleep at the lab tables, Watari had finally gotten a futon.

He was so engrossed in his experiment that he was almost tempted to ignore the sharp knock at the door. Chuckling, he let a small smile play across his lips; he didn't need to turn around to know that it was Tatsumi.

"Come on in!" he yelled, not bothering to look up as he slowly poured a neon blue chemical out of a test tube and into the flask containing the red one. The two chemicals swirled together as he mixed them, turning a light purple before bubbling slightly.

"Watari-san," Tatsumi said sternly.

"Hang on a sec, I'm almost done."

"Your new partner is here."

Watari halted his stirring and looked up to find an attractive man with clouded blue eyes staring back at him. Caught slightly off guard, the scientist inhaled softly at the sight of his partner.

If his eyes hadn't been so piercing, the scientist would have been convinced that the other man was blind.

Watari blinked a few times before taking in the rest of his partner. He was a tall, slightly muscular man with broad shoulders and straight blonde hair that reached the middle of his back. He was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved shirt with black dress pants, and he obviously found Watari's reaction amusing because he didn't bother hiding a light smile.

"Oh! Tatsumi, you should have said so."

Watari turned his attention back to his new partner, grinning widely. "Hi! I'm Watari, Yutaka."

"Ashida, Gabriel. Although, please just call me Gabriel."

Tatsumi cleared his throat. "Watari-san, you will be sharing your office in the back of the lab with Ashida-san. Now, I must get back to work. I trust that you'll show him around."

Once Tatsumi left the room, Watari immediately turned around to find his potion boiling over the edge of the flask and creeping down the side of the fogged glass. It had already started devouring the tabletop like a hungry cancer as it fizzed, turning the surface into molten lava. While Watari darted for the baking soda in hopes of saving his diseased-looking table, Gabriel started to give the room a critical look.

The chemist watched him explore the room as he cleaned up the mess. The other man definitely had a presence about him, but he couldn't place exactly what it was. Watari supposed that there was something in the way that he walked. He looked strong, but he had a grace about him.

"It's somehow clean and messy in here at the same time," Gabriel finally said, looking back at Watari.

"Yeah, just be glad that you don't have to climb over anything to get into the office. I used to just throw everything in there because I didn't use it. Well, until Tatsumi made me clean it out that is. He finally had enough one day when he tried to open the door and half of the stuff in the room fell on top of him." Watari smiled at the memory. "He wasn't too happy with me for a while there . . ."

Gabriel smirked. "Towers of things behind doors. I'll keep that in mind."

"It took me over a month to clean it out."

"So where do you put all of your stuff now?"

"Oh, I just throw it out the window. See that great view? Yeah. It's not going to last. Anyways, have you met anyone else yet?"

"Only Hakushaku-sama and the chief, but I did see a young boy in the hallway earlier."

"Oh, that was probably Bon."

"Bon?"

"Hisoka," Watari clarified. "Come on, I'll show you around."

* * *

After Watari gave Gabriel a detailed tour of the building, including the inner workings of the microwave, they finally came across Tsuzuki and Hisoka's office.

"Hiya Bon, Tsuzuki," Watari chirped, bouncing into the room without bothering to knock. "I've got a new partner. This is Ashida, Gabriel," Watari motioned behind him. "Gabriel, this is Tsuzuki and Kurosaki, Hisoka."

Gabriel bowed his head slightly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Hi!" Tsuzuki smiled warmly. "Watari, I didn't know that you were getting a partner."

"Yup, I guess Tatsumi wants to keep an eye on me," he smiled, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I think he was sick of me not having one, considering I'm supposed to and all. Well, we're heading back to the lab. Stop by later if you guys get bored!"

"Okay, we will!"

"No, we won't," Hisoka countered. "You've apparently got so much work that you can't do anything else, remember?"

Tsuzuki stiffened slightly before he relaxed and managed to pout. "Yeah, I guess you're right . . ."

* * *

That night, Hisoka went back to Tsuzuki's apartment only to find that it was empty again. He decided to go home and set his alarm for three o'clock. If Tsuzuki wasn't back by then, he'd know that something was up.

Just as he suspected, Tsuzuki still wasn't home.

* * *

"Tatsumi-san, Tsuzuki didn't go home last night either."

The secretary looked up from his organized stack of documents to find the young shinigami standing in front of his desk.

"And you still don't know where he might be going?"

"No . . ."

Tatsumi closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right," he finally said, pressing the button on the intercom to Watari's lab. "Watari-san, I need to see you immediately."

Hisoka tentatively sat down on the couch and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the scientist.

"Tatsumi-san, do you think the reason Tsuzuki's been acting so weird lately has something to do with where he's been going at night?"

"We can't be certain, but it would appear so."

Watari poked his head in the door. "You called?"

"Yes, please sit down."

Watari closed the door behind him and sat down next to Hisoka. Tatsumi saw his questioning look and explained, "Tsuzuki-san hasn't gone home in the past two nights."

"Where's he been going then?"

"We don't know."

"Oh. Why don't we just ask him?"

Hisoka sighed. "I did. He denied it, and then he said that it was none of my business."

"That's why the three of us are going to follow him tonight. I'm afraid it might have something to do with how he's been acting recently."

"I take it we're using Bon to track him down?"

Hisoka glared at Watari. "You make it sound like I'm a dog or something."

Watari only ruffled Hisoka's hair and chuckled, "Sorry, Bon."

"Yes, we'll use Kurosaki-kun's empathy to find him," Tatsumi answered.

"Tatsumi-san, it might be really hard though. I mean, I can barely sense his presence when he's in the same room as me, and he's been teleporting to wherever he's going. He's not walking."

"That's okay. I can find him," Watari said confidently.

The secretary's eyes narrowed. "How?"

"Easy, I can hack into one of the programs that I use for cases. It allows me to track down a person if I have a sample of their DNA. Unfortunately, I only get access to it if I'm on a case, but it should only take me a few seconds to get into it."

Tatsumi looked like he was about to protest when Watari interrupted. "Look, there's no possible way that we could find him if we had to search the entire Meifu _and_ ChiJou. Tatsumi, it could take us years. And if you don't want Tsuzuki to know that we're going to–"

Tatsumi cut him off. "Fine. Do what you must."

* * *

A few hours after Tsuzuki left the office, the three shinigami gathered in the scientist's lab. Watari headed toward the back of the room, leading them up a flight of stairs and onto the second floor. A small computer lab greeted them, and a few of the computers turned on automatically as Watari plopped down in front of them.

Even though the second floor was barely half the size of the first, it still felt very exposed. A balcony overlooked the main floor on one side, and a large window spanned across the entire wall on the other.

The room was silent except for the sound of Watari's fingers on the keyboard and the flickering buzz from the florescent lights. It was nearly nine o'clock, and Tatsumi found himself checking his watch for the seventh time in less than two minutes. He waited by the window with his hand pressed against the cool glass as he looked outside. The night's darkness swallowed his view from sight, only leaving him with his reflection. He stood tall and poised in his dark brown suit. _And completely helpless._ It made him want to smash the glass in irritation. At least it would break the thick silence that smothered the room like hot ash.

Tatsumi only broke from his thoughts when he heard the sound of Watari's computer chair groaning under the chemist's weight as he leaned back. He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched his arms, letting out a triumphant sigh. "Gotcha."

"Did you find him?" Hisoka asked.

"No, but I did just hack into the program," Watari said, beaming. "I'm about to do a search for him now. It should only take a second. Hey, look! It says we're right here . . ." Watari pointed to the screen enthusiastically.

"Watari-san," Tatsumi's voice was tense with a strained note beneath it.

"Right, right, finding Tsuzuki now," Watari chewed on his bottom lip absentmindedly as he typed. "Okay, he's in a small place right outside of Nagasaki."

"All right, let's go," Tatsumi said.

The three shinigami teleported to ChiJou, but right as they landed, Hisoka screamed out in pain as he fell to his knees. Wrapping his arms around himself, he struggled for air.

"Kurosaki-kun!"

"Bon! What's wrong?"

"It's . . . it's Tsuzuki. I can feel him from here . . . he's . . . he's so scared . . . his emotions are so strong . . ." Hisoka's voice came out in heavy gasps.

"Kurosaki-kun, can you get up?"

"I . . . I think so . . . it just took me off guard. Hurry, he's over there," he said, taking off into the air again.

Hisoka led Tatsumi and Watari to the small house surrounded by sakura trees. As they descended, Tatsumi paused in the air before landing. It took him less than a second to confirm a sudden presence behind him, and he instantly unleashed the shadow curling around his fingertips. He turned to watch the shadow dart behind him, and the other two shinigami whirled around in time to see the razored darkness stop only inches in front of a man's face.

"May I ask why you're attacking _me?_" the figure asked calmly.

". . . Gabriel?" Watari asked. "What are you do–"

"Never mind. What's wrong?"

"Let's _go!_ We don't have _time!_" Hisoka yelled impatiently as he took off toward the house again.

_Sakura trees . . . still in bloom, here?_

"Kurosaki-kun! Wait!" Tatsumi shouted before Hisoka could lead them any further.

"He's there, Tatsumi, he's in pain!" his voice cracked. "We need to help him!"

"I know," Tatsumi grit his teeth in frustration, "but we can't go in without knowing what's going on first. Otherwise, we may do more damage!"

Within seconds, Hisoka was back on the ground doubled over in pain.

"Tatsumi . . . oh God . . . I can't . . ." he panted, bracing his head against the hard earth.

"Kurosaki-kun, I want you to go back before you get any closer to Tsuzuki's consciousness–"

"_No!_ I won't leave him!" Hisoka yelled, snapping his head up to face the secretary; his vivid emerald eyes were bright with tears.

"It won't do Tsuzuki-san any good if he sees you like that!" the shadow master yelled back.

Hisoka looked like he was about to protest when he suddenly shut his eyes and let out a loud cry, shaking his head and grabbing fists of hair damp with sweat. The spasm ended as his body went limp, and he collapsed into a small heap on the ground.

"Ashida-san, take Kurosaki-kun back to the Meifu and make sure he's all right. Watari-san, let's hurry."

"Tatsumi, is there something–" Watari started to ask once Hisoka and Gabriel had disappeared.

"It's Muraki. That's why the sakura trees are still in bloom. Just like at the Kokakurou."

Watari swore. "Okay, let's try to get a look inside. Then we can decide what to do."

From the opposite side of the pond, the two shinigami could see Tsuzuki and Muraki through the open window. Large expanses of Tsuzuki's unblemished skin were visible between the bed and the larger man's overpowering form. Only the thin, white layer of Muraki's pants separated them; however, this didn't prevent Tsuzuki from twisting and moaning under the doctor's weight and invading hands.

Seconds later, Tatsumi was gone.

Tatsumi reappeared inside the house, standing only a few feet away from the foot of Muraki's bed. In one sharp stroke, he extended his hand outwards, sending a spiraling horde of shadows toward the rapist. Watari appeared next to him in time to see the shadows violently swarm up from the floor, viciously attacking Muraki and throwing him against the wall. The doctor's back hit the wall with a thunderous crash, launching jagged splinters of wood through the air. The serrated pieces flew toward the two shinigami and dissolved once they hit the invisible shields.

Upon seeing his friends, Tsuzuki scrambled backwards on the bed, grabbing a sheet to cover himself. His body appeared to be unmarred, but fresh blood saturated the sheet over him. As he moved, the hilt of a knife jutted out from underneath the blankets, exposing the head of a black dragon.

"Watari-san, take Tsuzuki-san back to the Meifu," the shadow master ordered with icy steel lining his voice. His sizzling electric blue eyes never left Muraki's body, which had slumped to the floor after slamming into the wall.

Watari hesitated slightly as Muraki stood and turned to face Tsuzuki's trembling form on the bed. "It's all right, Tsuzuki-san. You won't be punished for this," he said soothingly.

The house darkened and shook threateningly as Tatsumi roared, "_Go!_"

Watari took hold of Tsuzuki's arm, and the two of them teleported back to the Meifu.

"Tatsumi-san, it's not polite to interrupt me and Tsuzuki-san. You could have at least knocked," Muraki teased.

"I'm not playing any more games with you."

Muraki smirked, wiping blood from his bottom lip. "I'm sure Tsuzuki-san is especially annoyed with you. He was enjoying himself immensely until you disturbed us."

The black plague writhed up from all parts of the room, hungrily awaiting the tender flesh offered to it. Finding its victim satisfactory, dark ribbons slithered up Muraki's bare chest and coiled around his neck, slicing into his milky-white skin.

"I'm never going to let you hurt him again," Tatsumi seethed.

Muraki started to choke, but he managed a sneer. "He's the one who's been coming to me."

"Tsuzuki-san would _never_ go to you," Tatsumi said softly.

"Oh?" Muraki chuckled. "I seem to have struck a nerve. Why don't you ask him then? I'm sure he'll tell you. Now, if you don't mind, it's getting cold in here without Tsuzuki-san to keep me warm."

A bright light blinded Tatsumi as Muraki disappeared from the room. Creamy white feathers drifted down only to be engulfed by shadows enraged after losing their prey. Tatsumi cursed under his breath and teleported back to the Meifu.

* * *

Tatsumi Seiichirou never ran. He walked. He strolled. He was even known to pace from time to time, but he certainly, _never_, ran. Nevertheless, he found himself doing just that as he sprinted down the hallway, trying to find which infirmary room Tsuzuki was in.

Under normal circumstances, he would have made a mental note to speak to the designer of the building, regarding the unnecessary and excessive size of the infirmary, which only seemed to serve as a hindrance. However, these were not normal circumstances, and no such sentiments crossed his mind. His only thought was to find Tsuzuki.

Once he found the room, he took a moment to catch his breath before slowly opening the door. Tsuzuki was huddled on the bed with his back resting against the headboard. He was dressed in a yukata now, but he still had the blankets drawn close around him, pooling in his lap. Hisoka was sitting in a chair on one side of the bed, and Watari and Gabriel were sitting on the other side. As Tatsumi closed the door with a soft click, Gabriel leaned over and placed his hand on Watari's shoulder, whispering, "I'll be outside."

The scientist nodded, and once Gabriel left, Tatsumi immediately became aware of the silence that blanketed the room. Watari looked up at him with a sad smile, and Hisoka kept his eyes on the floor, but what made the secretary's chest tighten was Tsuzuki's quivering form on the bed.

"Ts- Tsuzuki-san . . ."

Tsuzuki only looked down into the sheets unable to meet the other man's eyes. Tears trickled down his face in long streams as he clutched his shoulders. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop shaking.

When Tatsumi gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, the smaller man jerked backwards, nearly ramming his back into the headboard. His amethyst eyes were wide with panic, and his breath came out in sharp gasps as his chest heaved for air. Tatsumi lifted a slender hand to comfort him before he caught himself and put it back down again. His first instinct was to ask if the other man was all right, but the answer was obvious.

_Please, please don't look at me like that . . . Tsuzuki-san . . ._

"Tsuzuki-san," he said gently. "Is that where you've been going at night?"

Tsuzuki only nodded.

"Wh-what . . ." Tatsumi's voice caught in his throat.

"Tsuzuki . . . what were you doing there?" Watari asked instead.

"He . . . we . . ." Tsuzuki hid his head in his hands, attempting to stifle his sobs.

Tatsumi clenched the edge of the bed, turning his knuckles white. He wanted nothing more than to hold those trembling shoulders and wipe away his tears.

_Even now . . . I couldn't help you . . . _

He longed to put a protective arm around Tsuzuki, but he quickly squelched all urges to do so. It was highly inappropriate, and this was not the time nor the place for his own needs. He was caught by surprise when Tsuzuki threw his arms around his neck, clasping onto his shirt and burying his head into his chest.

"Ts-Tsuzuki-san!" the secretary's eyes widened in shock.

After a few seconds, Tatsumi's face softened as the smaller man clung to him.

"Shhh . . . it's all right, you're safe now. You haven't done anything wrong," he whispered, smoothing Tsuzuki's hair and returning his embrace.

Tsuzuki shook his head against Tatsumi's chest. "No! It . . . it is my fault . . . it was all my fault . . . because I . . . I kept going back . . . for almost a month . . . I kept going back . . ."

Tatsumi's body froze at those words. He could feel the blood draining from his face and turning to ice in the pit of his stomach, and it gave him the faint urge to throw up. He was certain that Tsuzuki could hear his heart racing, and that thought made it extremely hard to breathe.

"Tsuzuki," Watari said gently. "You don't know that for sure. There are things that Muraki could have done to make you go back to him." The scientist was quiet for a moment and then asked sadly, "He cut you . . . didn't he?"

Tsuzuki lifted his head and nodded slightly as he sniffed.

"Can you tell me where?"

" . . . _Everywhere_ . . ." Tsuzuki whispered barely audibly.

For once, Watari's eyes gave away his true age. "It'll be okay. If it's a curse, we'll be able to break it."

Tatsumi's body relaxed slightly as he held Tsuzuki close. "See, Tsuzuki-san? We will fix this, and you'll be all right . . ."

"Tsuzuki, I'm going to examine you, okay?"

Tsuzuki shuddered but nodded. He gave Tatsumi one last squeeze before the larger man laid him down on the bed and tucked in the blankets around him. Tatsumi and Hisoka both left the room as Watari closed the door behind them.

* * *

"You've been very quiet," Tatsumi said, sitting down in one of the chairs outside of the infirmary room.

"I guess . . ." Hisoka was silent for a moment as he leaned against the wall, staring down at the floor. "I felt _him_ . . . when we went to go get Tsuzuki . . ."

_I wanted to forget that feeling . . ._

_I never wanted to feel it again . . ._

_But I can never forget it . . ._

"Watari-san seems to think that he'll be able to help Tsuzuki . . . but what if he can't? He's . . . he's not going to be like me, is he?" Hisoka asked, meeting the secretary's eyes.

"No," Tatsumi said firmly. "Tsuzuki-san does not seem to be affected any other way. Don't worry, Kurosaki-kun, he will be fine."

* * *

It was about half an hour before Watari emerged from the infirmary room. His hair was down and disheveled, but he didn't seem to notice.

"All I found was scar tissue. I ran some tests on him, but they all turned out negative. The great news is Tsuzuki wasn't cursed," Watari hesitated, "which means that he really was going there on his own. I ended up just giving him some sleeping pills, so he's out right now. I'm going to have him spend the night."

"I see," Tatsumi pushed up his glasses. "In that case, I'm going home."

He turned his back and started to walk away.

"Tatsumi, you're not going to stay here with him?" Watari asked confused.

Tatsumi didn't bother turning around. "I see no reason to. Tsuzuki-san is perfectly fine," he said with ice lining his voice.

"Tatsumi," Watari said sternly, "Tsuzuki is _not_ fine."

Tatsumi continued walking.

"Tatsumi, he has _scar tissue!_ Do you have any idea what a shinigami has to go through in order to scar? Let alone the amounts that he has? I didn't even think that it was _possible_ until now!"

Tatsumi stopped and turned his head slightly. "That was his choice."

Moments later, Tatsumi was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Watari let out a loud yawn as he stretched, arching his back up off of the futon. Slumping back down again, he snuggled up to the thick blanket lying over him and tried to regain some semblance of sleep. It wouldn't have been so hard if it wasn't for the obnoxious buzzing that practically echoed in the bare room. Annoyed, he turned to the irritating disturbance and cracked one eye open, groaning at the blurry red numbers.

"I hate you too," he mumbled into his pillow.

The scientist leaned over and tried to swat at his alarm clock, but his fingertips fell just short of reaching the evil device. Balancing dangerously close to the edge of his bed, it only took one final stretch before Watari found himself on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He mumbled something vulgar before turning his head, and he was pleased to find that his alarm clock was lying next to him; its flashing red numbers dimmed slightly before flickering out.

"Are you ever going to get up?" Gabriel called out from the office next to Watari's room in the laboratory.

"No," the chemist pouted dejectedly from the floor.

"You know, I've been here for over an hour already, and there really isn't anything I can work on until you get up."

After a few seconds and another faint thud, Watari slowly wandered out of his room wearing a dusty black t-shirt and an old pair of jeans. His uncombed hair trailed down his back in long lines, and he blinked a few times as he squinted at Gabriel.

"You," he said, pressing the palms of his hands to his face. ". . . I remember you . . ."

"Lovely," Gabriel said dryly. "Yes. Me. Now can we please get to work–or at least do _something_ before I die of boredom?"

Watari closed his eyes and grumbled something inaudible before he turned to leave the room.

"Excuse me?" the larger man asked, trying to get a decent answer out of the scientist before he wandered away.

"Coffee," he mumbled, clumsily waving his hand in the air behind him.

Gabriel sighed. It was going to be a long afterlife.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Watari cheerfully bounded back into the room. His long, white lab coat spanned out behind him, catching the air like an angel's wing in flight as he greeted Gabriel with a bright smile.

"Good morning!" he sang with his shiny, blonde hair practically bouncing on every syllable.

". . . What the hell just happened here?" Gabriel blinked back in surprise.

"Eh? What do you mean?"

"A few minutes ago you looked like the walking dead."

"Well, technically–"

Gabriel gave him an annoyed look. "You know what I meant."

"Heh, coffee. Well, that and a hot shower. Sorry, I'm usually awake a bit earlier, but I was up most of the night with Tsuzuki."

"Ah," Gabriel looked at Watari evenly before he spoke again. "So why didn't anyone tell me about last night?" he asked coolly. "I haven't been training for the past month for nothing, and I don't appreciate being pushed off to the side because you don't think that I can handle it. And don't think that I didn't notice how quickly Tatsumi-san tried to get rid of me after I found you guys."

Watari blinked at him for a moment. "Wait, what? What do you mean you've been training for a month? Shinigami normally just get trained as they go on cases with their partners–you mean you already know what you can do?"

Gabriel arched a slender eyebrow. "Yes, of course I know. Isn't it kind of hard not to?"

Watari shrugged and sat down on the corner of his desk. "It really depends on what it is. I mean, it took me nearly a year to figure out that I could draw stuff and make it come to life. It's not exactly something they test for, you know?"

"I suppose."

"So why have you already been trained?"

"I have no idea. I just figured that it was normal. It seems logical anyway."

Watari looked down in thought, swinging his legs back and forth. "I wonder if they changed it because of everything that's happened over the past year. Who trained you?"

"You're ignoring my question."

The scientist cracked a slight smile, but his tone was serious when he spoke again. "I would have told you, but we really didn't know what to expect. Tsuzuki . . . he's been through a lot lately, and I thought that it would be a personal matter. I don't think any of us were expecting to find him with Muraki again. Otherwise I would have told you."

"Who is he anyway? Muraki, I mean," Gabriel looked down, toying with the ring around his middle finger. "What's so horrible about them being together?"

Watari shook his head. "It's not like that. Muraki is the reason why Hisoka is here. He's a murderer and a rapist, and he doesn't give a damn about what he's doing to Tsuzuki."

"If he's that much of a threat, then why hasn't he been killed yet? With the way Tatsumi-san came at me last night, it looked like he would have annihilated a village full of small children if it meant getting Tsuzuki back."

"He apparently has a tendency of disappearing when things aren't going his way. So where did you wander off to last night? I couldn't find you after you left."

"It felt wrong, staying there and seeing Tsuzuki like that . . . so I went home."

"Ah, I thought that might have been it. Well, I'm going to go check on him right now actually," Watari hopped off of his desk with a broad smile. "I shouldn't be too long. When I get back, we can start working, okay?"

"Sure. I'll pretend to look busy until then."

* * *

When Watari quietly opened the infirmary room door, he was surprised to find Tsuzuki wrapping a second yukata around himself as he climbed out of bed. After the smaller man had gone to bed the night before, he'd only gotten a few hours of sleep before the nightmares woke him up again. Watari had stayed with him, and when Tsuzuki seemed reluctant to go back to sleep, he didn't press the issue. Instead, the scientist began telling the older man about one of his newest inventions, which was nearing completion. It was around six in the morning when Watari had finally managed to bore him back to sleep, and he figured that Tsuzuki would be all right by himself for a little while. He had barely stumbled back into his lab and collapsed on his futon before his alarm clock woke him up only three hours later–which was why he didn't think the other man would be up for at least a few more hours.

"Tsuzuki . . . ?"

"Oh, hi, Watari."

"Were you going someplace?"

"Yeah, the chief was just in here a few minutes ago, and he said that Tatsumi wanted to see me. I was just going to go home and shower first . . . I . . . I didn't get a chance to last night . . . but I better hurry. Tatsumi will be angry with me if I'm late for work."

Watari frowned slightly. "Tatsumi's making you work today?"

"Of course, why wouldn't he?" Tsuzuki managed a painful smile for the other man. "It's okay. I'm fine. I'll see you later, all right?" he said, disappearing from the room.

* * *

Tatsumi glared down at the page in front of him as though its mere existence personally offended him. His pen skillfully slid over the surface of the crisp, white sheet like a razorblade across fresh ice, and he filled the page with his elegant script until he heard a soft knock at the door. He didn't bother looking up, but his pen stilled just long enough to let the ink pool around the sharp tip, ruining his perfect penmanship. The shadow master's lips pressed together on their own accord; someone was going to pay for that.

"Yes?" he heard his steely voice ask.

Tsuzuki peeked inside. "You wanted to see me, Tatsumi?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, please close the door behind you," the secretary said, still studying the papers in front of him.

The smaller man silently entered the room and stood meekly in front of Tatsumi's desk. He knew better than to interrupt, so he simply waited for the other man to finish the report. It was a long while before the secretary finally spoke, and when he did, his voice was cold and detached as he glanced between the two documents in front of him.

"As you already know, it has come to my attention that you have been acting independently of the bureau and have been pursuing intentions of your own nature on ChiJou. Tsuzuki-san, the bureau has very few restrictions, and yet you have managed to break most of them. You are well aware that relationships between the living and the dead are strictly prohibited and not looked upon lightly. It is for this very reason that shinigami are required to work in pairs, but yet again, you have ignored that fact. Or perhaps you thought you were above such regulations?"

"N–no . . ."

Tatsumi looked up from his desk, and for a second, Tsuzuki thought that he was going to offer him the faint smile he always did to soften his words. It was almost invisible to anyone else, but Tsuzuki knew that it would be there for him.

But this time, the smile never came.

Instead, the secretary focused his attention on the computer screen next to him. The neon-blue glare from the monitor reflected across his glasses, completely hiding his eyes.

"Tsuzuki-san, do _not_ underestimate the severity of this situation. Disciplinary action will be taken. However, for the time being, you will proceed with your assignments as usual."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes and lowered his head in a small nod. He turned to leave the room, but he stopped as soon as he heard Tatsumi's sharp voice slicing through the air behind him.

"Might I inform you that if not for your long-standing debts to the department, your position as a shinigami would have been permanently terminated. Do you realize the humiliation that you have brought down upon yourself and the bureau? Such a disgrace of this magnitude is utterly unforgivable. Under no other conditions would such a worthless person be privileged to work as a shinigami."

The smaller man's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. He still had his back to the secretary, and at the moment, he preferred it that way. As much as he hated the fact that Tatsumi refused to look at him, he didn't know if he'd be able to face those dark, cruel eyes.

The low, dangerous voice continued as though unaware of its effect on the other man. "You are absolutely forbidden to return to _him_, and you are not permitted to leave the Meifu without your partner. Not only have you disregarded the rules, but you have endangered the entire JuOhCho by doing so. And _if_ you are so inclined to repeat this pattern, EnmaDaiOh-sama himself will deal with you. Do you understand?"

"Y–yes . . ."

"Good. Now get out of my office," he spat.

* * *

Hisoka had known what was coming even before Konoe had dropped by his office for the third time that morning under the pretense of looking for his lost coffee mug. He knew that the older man was hiding from Tatsumi's wrath, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd had a migraine all morning, and it was only getting worse.

The teenager closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool desk. It was normally easy for him to block out the disarray of emotions that constantly besieged his own thoughts, but it was proving to be a rather difficult task at the moment. The white noise vibrated in the back of his mind and grated on his nerves, making his headache even worse. It wouldn't have been so bad if Tsuzuki just wasn't so damn _loud._

Hisoka cringed and grit his teeth against the throbbing pain. This had to stop. Tsuzuki's sense of guilt was increasing by the second, and he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to take it.

He turned his head in time to see Tsuzuki rushing past the doorway, and the pressure behind his eyes eased slightly. He rested for a little while longer before he felt like he could lift his head without being sick. He could see Tsuzuki outside, heading toward the lake at a run, and he decided to give the other man a few more minutes before going out to talk to him.

* * *

Hisoka stopped at the base of the steps and leaned against the stone railing, taking a deep breath. The scented air and open space was a wonderful reprieve compared to the thoughts and emotions that fluttered around the building like trapped butterflies. Tsuzuki's guilt still drizzled around the edge of his senses, so he braced himself for the downpour as he headed toward the humble form off in the distance.

The other man was sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, and he looked so small and alone against the vast backdrop of the lake. The deep-red sun was as engorged as an overripe pomegranate, dripping juice down over the landscape like a thick wine. Tsuzuki was caught under one such ray as it lazily soaked his hair in color, giving him a crown of pure light. Eventually the rich luminescence bled into his surroundings until the bronze shimmer glazed over every pebble. It was almost as though nature itself was a portrait painted with the sunrise.

Hisoka tried to ignore the sakura petals that attacked him as he walked through the field. He honestly had no idea how he should feel. It seemed like everything that they had worked so hard for was destroyed with one simple act. Tsuzuki said that he had gone there on his own . . . but how could that possibly be true? Tsuzuki knew what the doctor had done to him. He knew why he was a shinigami, so how could he willingly be with him? Hisoka clenched his fists at his sides. More importantly, how could he be expected to forgive the older man after doing such a thing? The thought of the two of them together made him physically sick. He wanted to rip Muraki's throat out for touching Tsuzuki, but he realized that he was even angrier at his partner for betraying him.

Only when Hisoka sat down next to him could he hear the quiet sobs.

All of his anger dissipated as he watched the other man bury his head in his arms. He opened his mouth, hoping, praying, that for once, the comforting words would come, but his mouth was suddenly dry.

"Tsuzuki . . ."

After a few minutes, Tsuzuki sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve before turning his face away from Hisoka.

"I'm going to need a new hiding spot," he eventually said.

"Hmph. Maybe someplace where we can't actually see you from inside the building," Hisoka responded, looking down at the grass. He idly brushed his hand over the tiny blades, and they tickled his palm in return.

Tsuzuki remained silent, and for a moment, Hisoka was almost certain that he was holding his breath. The tension in the air cracked and sizzled until the other man finally spoke, letting the anxiety visibly drain from his body.

"He lied to me you know . . . Tatsumi that is . . . He said that if it wasn't for all of the money that I owe the department, I would have been released."

Hisoka instantly looked up to face his partner, but Tsuzuki continued to stare off to the side.

"He actually made it sound like it would have been a bad thing, but he knows that isn't true. Enma will never let me go. This is my punishment." He paused for a moment before adding quietly, "This is my hell."

"But . . . but why would Tatsumi say something like that?"

"Because he's angry with me, and all I ever seem to do is disappoint him. That's why he forced the chief to let him be the one to talk to me. He knew that Konoe would go too easy on me."

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, and the unanswered question lingered between them until Hisoka finally whispered, "Tsuzuki . . . why did you do it?"

"I don't know . . ."

Hisoka glared at him suddenly angry again. "Yes you do, so stop lying to me. Last night . . . Tsuzuki, last night I felt everything that you did. I _know_ you had a reason because you wouldn't have kept on going back if you didn't. You wouldn't . . . you wouldn't have kept letting him hurt you like that."

Tsuzuki opened his mouth, but Hisoka cut him off. "And don't tell me that he threatened to start hurting people again and you did it to stop him, because if that was really the case, you would have killed him. And if you couldn't have, I or Tatsumi or even Watari would have gladly done it, so just tell me the truth."

"Hisoka, I can't . . ."

"Why not?"

"Because you wouldn't understand."

"Then make me understand!" he yelled, rising to his feet. "You always do this! Why can't you ever just let me in and let me help you? Stop treating me like I'm a fucking child!"

"Hisoka. That's enough."

Hisoka shook his head. "N-no . . . after everything he's done to me . . . done to us . . . how could you? How could you keep letting him get what he wanted? . . . I . . . I refuse to believe that you betrayed me like that . . . so please, please just let me in, Tsuzuki. We've been partners for over two years, and sometimes I still feel like I barely even know you."

"It's better that way. I'm tired, Hisoka . . . I'm just so tired . . . Please, I just want to be alone right now."

"No. I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth."

Tsuzuki stood to face his younger partner. "Fine, then I will," he said and started to walk back toward the building.

"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka called out, catching his partner's arm and spinning him around so that they were facing again. Tsuzuki immediately snatched his arm back, and his voice hitched in his throat as he rasped, "Don't touch me."

"Tsuzuki, I–"

"Don't. Touch. Me," he repeated hoarsely. He was noticeably trembling when he continued, "I don't have to explain myself to you or anyone else. This was my decision, and I don't regret it, so just leave me alone."

* * *

Tsuzuki slammed his office door behind him and slid down to the floor, choking back a sob and letting out a shaky, partly hysterical laugh: Hisoka had scared him. After the initial shock, he hadn't meant to be so harsh with the younger boy, but he couldn't risk his partner finding out everything that he'd tried so hard to hide. He wouldn't, couldn't, put Hisoka through something like that again.

Yet there was still a small voice in the back of his mind telling him that he didn't want the others to find out for his own selfish reasons.

_They'd hate me if they knew the truth . . . and they're already starting to._

Tsuzuki pried his tired body off of the floor and collapsed at his desk, promising himself that later he could have his breakdown in peace. He knew that he couldn't risk it if Hisoka came back and saw him panicking, so in a desperate attempt to take his mind off of things, he started to work. He had so much to do that he figured he could at least try to make one person happy.

Earlier he had come to the frightening realization that everyone knew what he had done. It was no secret that he spent the night in the infirmary, and after word of what happened got out, it spread through the building like a contagious disease. It was only all the more obvious when he heard his co-workers whispering behind his back and stealing glances at him when they thought he wasn't looking. He could still see the scorn etched into their faces and feel their judgment weighing down on him, and all he wanted was to escape it.

He couldn't bring himself to venture out of his office, and before long, he had worked straight through lunch and most of the afternoon. Deep down he had known that this would eventually happen, but every night he had tried to convince himself otherwise. The worst part was that he just wanted to go back to Muraki and be forced to forget about everything for at least one more masochistic night.

Tsuzuki reached for the next document only to find that his pile was gone. For a moment, he sat there blinking at the empty space on his desk. Had it always been that shade of brown? The shinigami managed a tiny flicker of a smile; he couldn't actually remember the last time that he had seen the surface of his desk. He was about to check and see if his stack had fallen on the floor when he caught sight of his finished pile.

Funny, he didn't even remember doing it.

He checked his wrist watch and was actually rather impressed with himself. He had finished everything with exactly three minutes to spare. He was leafing through the mound of papers and making sure that they were all in order when he suddenly found Watari standing in front of his desk.

"You're working," the blonde stated simply.

"Umm, yes?" Tsuzuki responded uncertainly.

"You're. Working," he repeated again, eying the finished stack of reports in Tsuzuki's hands. "Now I _know_ you aren't back to your normal, _lazy_ self."

"Hey, I work . . . sometimes," he said, managing an indignant pout.

"Uh-huh."

"I do!"

"I believe you, really," the scientist said with a playful grin. "Anyway, I came to see if you wanted to spend the night at my place."

Tsuzuki gave the other man a small, sad smile. "Watari, thank you for staying with me last night, but I'll be fine tonight, really. You don't need to watch over me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, giving Tsuzuki a clear look of disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm all right now."

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me," he waved, disappearing into the hallway.

Tsuzuki grabbed his faded trench coat and checked over the reports once more before heading toward the door. For the first time in weeks, he wasn't in a hurry to get home, and the new freedom was oddly frightening. It seemed like he had been rushing back to his apartment for a quick dinner his whole life. Occasionally, he would only stop for a change of clothes if Muraki made arrangements for dinner or an evening out followed by their less conventional activities.

The shinigami had barely even made it to the doorway when he collided with something very warm and solid. The other figure let out a slight grunt as Tsuzuki clumsily stumbled backwards, trying not to drop any of his work. He immediately recognized the strong, spicy scent, so he didn't need to look up to know that Tatsumi was leveling him with a terrific glare.

"Tsuzuki-san," the larger man snarled nearly hissing the last syllable. "This is _not_ a playground. Please watch where you are going."

"S-sorry, Tatsumi. I didn't see you . . ."

"Clearly. Were you planning on leaving already?"

"Yeah, I finished everything that I was behind on. I was just about to put the files on your desk."

"Oh?" the secretary raised a slender eyebrow. "And now I suppose you want to be congratulated for completing work that's over two weeks late?"

"No, I just–"

"You just what?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," he said, staring down at the floor. The truth was, Tatsumi was right. A childish part of him hoped that if he did everything that needed to get done, the other man wouldn't be so angry with him.

"Kurosaki-kun hasn't returned from the library yet, has he?"

"No, I haven't seen him since this morning."

"Ah. I see you've managed to agitate things with your partner as well."

Tsuzuki unconsciously stiffened. "What would you know about it?" he asked defensively.

"Enough," the secretary's lips curled into a thin smile. "But since I've lost one of my employees today, I'm sure you won't mind staying until you've finished Kurosaki-kun's work as well."

Tsuzuki ground his teeth in frustration. His patience with the other man was finally starting to fray, and after weeks of pretending like nothing was wrong, he was in no mood to keep up the charade. He was sick of being treated like a child, and he was sick of everyone assuming that they knew what happened.

"Fine," he snapped, thrusting the documents into the other man's hands.

If Tatsumi was surprised by the smaller man's tone, he showed no signs of it. "If you're having trouble with him, I could always put in a request for reassignment."

Tsuzuki stopped and looked up to meet Tatsumi's merciless gaze. "You wouldn't dare," he growled, finally letting his own anger seep into his words.

Light flared across the surface of the secretary's glasses. "Wouldn't I?"

"Konoe would never allow it. Tatsumi, why are you being so . . . so cruel?" He lowered his voice barely above a whisper, "Do you really hate me this much?" he asked bitterly.

"You already know . . . I don't like idiots."

"That may be so, but at least Muraki was nicer than this."

Something flashed across the other man's normally stoic face, and for a second, Tsuzuki thought that the shadow master was going to hit him. The look instantly vanished as his features hardened to stone again, but Tsuzuki knew better than to trust his outward appearance.

"Don't you _ever_ compare me to him again," he breathed in a slow, deadly voice.

"You're right. Some of us at least have needs . . . We can't all be like you, Tatsumi."

The secretary stared at Tsuzuki for a long moment before silently leaving the room without another word. Tsuzuki tried to convince himself that it wasn't pain that he saw in the other man's eyes, or that he wasn't trembling ever so slightly, but he knew the truth, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

He watched the shadow master go, but only when he felt his heart rise up into this throat did he realize what he had done. He tried to call to the other man, spilling out an apology before he really even knew what he was saying, but Tatsumi wouldn't let him finish.

"If you want to whore yourself out, it makes no difference to me," he snapped.

And in that instant, Tsuzuki knew that things could never be the same between them again.

* * *

In a wave of panic, Tsuzuki teleported into his apartment as he fought to keep down the icy fear that coiled around his chest. The sickening feeling made it nearly impossible for him to breathe, and he felt like he was forcing vinegar into his lungs with every strained breath. Soon the room began to spin, and he collapsed on the couch as he found that his legs would no longer support him.

He lay there, staring ahead blankly as he replayed the conversation in his head over and over again. He'd never lost his temper like that with Tatsumi before, but he couldn't just stand there and let him threaten to take away the only person who was ever willing to stay with him. Tatsumi had already left him . . . wasn't that enough?

Tsuzuki curled up to the pillow next to him and began to sob. How could things have turned out so wrong? He wanted to explain. He needed the other man to understand. Yet Tatsumi wasn't even willing to listen.

There were so many unsaid things between them–so many misunderstandings. So why did he have to say the one thing that he wished he could take back more than anything else?

"I didn't mean it. _I didn't mean it _. . ." he whimpered into the pillow. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bit his lower lip and tried to calm himself. He had finally steadied his breathing when an abrupt knock at the door made him bolt upright.

"Tatsumi . . . ?" he managed weakly, wiping his tears on his sleeve and rushing to the door. "Tatsumi, I'm sorry I–" he blurted out all in one breath, but when he opened the door, the only thing that greeted him was an empty hallway. He was about to go running after the other man, thinking that the secretary had changed his mind and decided to leave, when he tripped over something at his feet. He looked down to find a brown package bound with some string, and he gave the hallway one last glance before taking it inside.

He went into his bedroom and sat down on the bare bed before plucking a small white card out from behind the string. Large, satiny rose petals fell from the folded paper, making Tsuzuki's hands immediately begin to shake.

_My dear Tsuzuki-san,_

_I do hope that you didn't get into too much trouble with your little shinigami friends. __I would hate for it to start permanently effecting our nightly visits. _

_You seem to have forgotten these in your haste last night. As much as I love to admire them scattered across my floor, I'd much rather admire your quivering body lying across my bed. Come back to me soon, my love._

_~Muraki_

Tsuzuki eyed the package suspiciously before ripping it open to find his work clothes inside. They were folded neatly, and the familiar smell of sakura blossoms and raspberries molested his senses, thrusting his thoughts back into the dark nights filled with humiliation and disgrace.

After rereading the letter a few more times, Tsuzuki vehemently crushed it in his fist. He was about to throw the crumpled mass away when for some unbeknownst reason to him, he stuffed it into his night table drawer. He stared at the closed drawer for a moment before he glanced back at the pile of clothes on his bed. The bastard even had them dry-cleaned.

Tsuzuki ran his fingers through his unkept, brown hair and shuddered at the sweet smell that clung to his hands. Even at home he couldn't get away from the tantalizing aroma.

He darted toward the bathroom, thrusting his trembling hands under the faucet and scouring them with soap until the white foam filled the small sink, nearly sloshing onto the floor.

"I can't get it off! I can't get his smell off of me!" he shouted into the mirror as he frantically stripped off his clothes and turned the shower on.

He barely even noticed the scalding water as he quickly lathered a washcloth, violently scrubbing away at his scarred body until his skin was raw and bloody from the old wounds that he managed to reopen. The scorching water attacked his skin like a rain of tiny needles, but no matter how hot it became, it wouldn't warm his shivering body.

Even taking a shower had become something dirty. Sometimes Muraki had insisted that they showered together after they were done.

Sometimes he made him spend the night lying in his own filth.

It was one such night when the silver haired man enveloped him in his strong arms, protecting him from the hard spray when he whispered,

"_They'd hate you if they knew._"

"_I know._"

"_You say that, but you still don't fully realize what you've done."_

Tsuzuki turned the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He didn't even realize that he was bleeding until he saw the blood smeared across the fluffy white cloth. "I know what I've done," he choked brokenly to his reflection in the mirror.

Polished, amethyst gemstones stared back at him in a kaleidoscope of deep purples and pinks like the beginning rays of a sunrise. They were never-ending reminders of how different he truly was, and Tsuzuki found them so revolting that he didn't even notice the deep circles under his eyes or just how thin and pale his face had become.

All he could see were the embedded jewels.

"Dammit, I know!" he yelled, smashing the mirror into a splay of tiny, glistening shards with his fist. "I need you . . . I still need you, Tatsumi. So please don't leave me . . ."

"_I am sorry, Tsuzuki-san . . . I'm not going with you on this case . . ."_

"_Ah . . . right . . . okay. It's an easy one anyway. Well, next time then–"_

"_Not next time. Or the time after that . . . Not again . . ."_

Tsuzuki was in the kitchen, reaching for the knife block before he even realized what he was doing.

How many times? How many times did he lie awake in Muraki's arms, wishing that Tatsumi would come to take him away–to save him from himself?

Tsuzuki didn't want to know the answer.

On those nights, after the moon would finally manage to lull him to sleep, he would dream about the shadow master. It was so real that he could almost feel the warmth from the other man as he cupped his face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together, telling him that he didn't have to keep hurting himself anymore.

Even though he didn't want to admit it to himself, Tsuzuki knew that it was too late for such things. Now when the secretary looked at him, he may as well have been staring at a stranger. Maybe Tatsumi was finally starting to see what Tsuzuki had always seen in himself . . .

_I've done something unforgivable . . ._

Tsuzuki plunged the knife into his arm over and over again until he couldn't even feel the blade ripping through his taut tendons or scraping against the bone. His salty tears dripped down over the serrated edge, washing the tinged blade and making his wounds sting once more.

"_How could you? How could you keep letting him get what he wanted?"_

"Because this is what I deserve . . ." Tsuzuki said quietly as he thrust the knife into one of his dulled, amethyst eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Gabriel curiously studied the beaker placed in front of him. Large, murky green bubbles made their way to the surface before rupturing with small, ill-sounding sputters.

"You want me to drink this?" he asked cautiously.

Watari nodded.

"And I'm supposed to do it just because you asked me to?"

Another nod.

Gabriel sighed. "What does it do?"

"It's a surprise," Watari answered cheerfully.

"Oh, really?" the larger man asked, mildly interested. "In that case, no."

"Oh come on . . . please? I even made it green-tea flavored."

"I hate tea."

Watari sputtered, "You _what?_"

A stiff knock at the door interrupted them, and Tatsumi entered the lab without waiting for a reply. It wasn't difficult to see the tension in the secretary's jaw, or the way that he gripped the clipboard tightly at his side. Gabriel wondered if he was more agitated than usual.

Watari glanced up from the potion. "Yo, Tatsumi. What's up? You look like–"

"Watari-san," the secretary interjected, "did you know that it is almost ten o'clock, and Tsuzuki-san still has not shown up for work yet?"

"Well, no . . . but he's only an hour late. That's pretty normal for Tsuzuki."

"And it is completely unacceptable," the secretary shot back. "Kurosaki-kun has informed me that he thinks Tsuzuki-san is still at home. I would like both of you to go find out why and bring him back with you."

"Sure," the scientist said, hopping off of the table before looking back at Gabriel. "Let's go."

They silently made their way past Tatsumi and down the carpeted corridors in silence. Every so often Gabriel glanced upwards, admiring the stained-glass skylights that cast tiny flecks of color across the marble walls. He had only been in one of the wings so far, so it was easy to forget how big the building truly was.

When they were finally a safe distance away from the secretary, Gabriel gave Watari a careful look. "We aren't really going to force him to come to work, are we?"

Watari waved the notion off with his hand. "Of course not. I'm just worried about him."

Once outside, Watari closed his eyes and clasped his hands behind his head as he led the way. Gabriel watched him and briefly wondered just how long the scientist had been a shinigami if he was able to walk to Tsuzuki's apartment with his eyes closed. He sighed to himself; would he be working there just as long?

They walked for a while before Watari cracked open one eye and looked at his partner. "So how did you die?" he asked casually.

"Isn't there some unwritten law that says it's not polite to ask people that?"

"Yeah, but I know that if I don't ask you now, I'll probably never find out, and then my curiosity will start to eat me alive, and that's no good either."

Gabriel studied Watari for a moment. "I was shot," he stated simply. "How did you die?"

"Guess."

The larger man sighed, "I don't know. You stuck a fork in a toaster?"

Watari laughed. "Okay, okay, I deserved that. Actually, most people think that I blew myself up. I've just never had the heart to correct them."

"So how did you die then?"

"I drowned," Watari smiled at Gabriel. "Boring, I know. How old are you anyway?"

"Thirty-two."

"Married?"

"No," Gabriel paused, "but I was with someone. Were you?"

"Nah, I never really had the time for anything serious. What did you do for a living?"

"You're just full of questions today aren't you?"

Watari rubbed his head ruefully. "Yeah, but it's not exactly like you've been supplying me with information up until now. It's been a while since I've had a partner, and I'd at least like to get to know who I'm working with."

"Fair enough. I was an editor."

"Oh? Did you write too?"

"A little, but I never published anything if that's what you're asking."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't like other people reading what I wrote. It was one of the reasons why I wanted to become an editor. I figured that if I didn't want to publish anything, I at least wanted to help other people do it."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense. What did you write about?"

"Unbridled love and enthusiasm."

Watari scrunched up his nose, giving the larger man a strange look. "You're kidding . . . right?"

Gabriel couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "Of course I am. What did you do for a living?"

"I was a mechanical engineer."

Gabriel paused, "You weren't a chemist?"

"Oh, chemistry is just one of my many hobbies."

"Why does that scare me . . . ?"

They walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence until they reached Tsuzuki's apartment complex. All of the buildings in the area were made out of the same matching, red brick, and each one sat carefully positioned around a small lake.

Watari sprung up the steps two at a time and started to repeatedly hammer on the doorbell. When no one answered, he leaned over the railing and started pounding on the window instead. "Oi! Tsuzuki!" he called out. "Come let us in!"

Gabriel stood back, slightly amused by his partner's behavior. "If we can teleport inside, then why are we waiting for someone to open the door?"

"It's another one of those unwritten laws," the scientist said with a wave of his hand. "Otherwise people would be popping in and out of others' homes all the time. No one would ever have any sort of privacy."

Watari started knocking on the window again when the front door opened to reveal a short, scrawny looking old man. "Hey! What's all that noise? Don't you know that people are still sleepin'?" the landlord asked.

"Ah, sorry about that. We just came by to see Tsuzuki. Do you know if he's still here?"

"Well," the old man said, furrowing his grey eyebrows together, "he didn't come by beggin' for breakfast this mornin', so he's probably still asleep. I'll let you in if it means that you'll quiet down."

"Thanks! We will," Watari said with a smile.

The old man nodded, grumbling "pesky youngin's" under his breath as he left.

Watari tried Tsuzuki's door and found that it was unlocked, so he poked his head inside. "Tsuzuki? You home?"

When there was no reply, Watari went in and motioned toward the bedroom along the back wall. "I'm just gonna go and see if he's in there. I'll be right back."

Gabriel glanced around the room as he waited. The apartment was only slightly larger than his own, but it was much brighter and had an older feel to it. A set of windows stretched along the left wall, letting the morning sun seep in through the flimsy white curtains. Gabriel watched as the light swarmed around the room, restlessly looking for a way out. There was a small couch against the right wall, facing the windows, and a larger one in the middle of the room, facing the TV. Both were made out of the same plain, light-blue fabric that was worn and faded with years of use. However, the TV looked oldest of all with a generous amount of duct tape holding up the sagging antenna and a thick layer of dust coating the screen.

The kitchen was in the far back corner of the apartment, offering a nice view of the living room. Since there was not enough space for a kitchen table, the only thing that separated the two rooms was a wide counter with two stools pulled up next to it. Small patches of sunlight danced across the counter, highlighting the tiny particles of dust in the air and making a momentary spark of red catch Gabriel's eye. Looking carefully, he immediately noticed the blood splattered across the bleached-white refrigerator door, accenting the plastic like a child's finger painting.

As he moved closer, a trail of blood brought his attention to the kitchen sink, and he swore softly at the hellish nightmare that greeted him. A horde of knives bathed in blood and bits of flesh protruded from the once white porcelain, gleaming eerily in the dim light. Some were glossy and new with their serrated edges reflecting the sun like small mirrors, while others were old and corroded and caked with dried blood. There was such an assortment that the sink had everything from butcher knives to bone scissors, and there were so many that some had even fallen out onto the counter.

"W-Watari!"

Gabriel ventured past the counter and into the kitchen to get a better look when he felt a slight splash at his feet. "Oh, God . . ." he whispered, stopping dead.

"He's not here," Watari said, emerging from the bedroom. "He might of–" the scientist froze as he came up behind Gabriel, following his gaze to the floor.

Gabriel backed himself up against the wall before rushing to the bathroom to be sick.

Tsuzuki was huddled in the corner with his arms wrapped around his knees surrounded by a pool of blood. His hair was wet and matted, framing this thin face as small drops of blood formed at the tips of the darkened strands. A thick, white film coated both of his eyes like frosted glass, and only a tiny tinge of purple could be seen beneath the clouded lenses. His lips were even a frightening shade of dragonfly blue compared to his stark white complexion, but what horrified Watari most of all were the deep, plum-colored gashes that covered his friend's entire body.

"_Shit_," Watari swore, rushing to the smaller man's side.

"Tsuzuki? Tsuzuki, come on, wake up for me, okay?" the scientist coaxed, kneeling next to the other man. When he didn't respond, Watari started to panic. His first instinct was to go and get Tatsumi, but he knew that he couldn't let the secretary see Tsuzuki in his current state. Even the shadow master had his limits.

"Gabriel," Watari called out just loud enough for the other man to hear him. "Bring some hot water and all of the towels that you can find. Then I need you to take the sheet off of the bed and rip it into thin strips."

Watari bit at his lower lip. "Come on Tsuzuki, you're kinda scaring me here . . ." he whispered more to himself than anyone else. The scientist took a deep breath before reaching out to gently shake the other man. He knew that it was a bad idea, but experience told him that it was the only way to wake him. Just as his fingertips touched his shoulder, Tsuzuki sucked in his breath, slamming his back into the kitchen cupboards and scrambling to make himself look small. He was like a wild animal as he frantically whipped his head around, trying to see who was there.

"Tsuzuki, it's just me. It's Watari," he said soothingly. "It's okay. You're safe now . . . You're safe."

"W-Watari?" Tsuzuki murmured, looking right through the other man. "C-can't see . . ." he whimpered as fear started to creep into his voice.

"It's okay. Just give it some time to heal. You'll be all right."

Tsuzuki nodded and slightly relaxed in the protection of his corner. Gabriel returned moments later, but he only stayed long enough to put the supplies down before going to go wait in the living room.

"Tsuzuki, I really need to get you bandaged up . . ."

"K-kay . . ."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes and braced himself, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from flinching when the scientist started. It made his cheeks burn with embarrassment because he knew that Watari was doing his best to keep his distance. It was stupid, really. He and the other man had always been close. A hug or a slap on the back was always common between them, but now something was different, and it took everything he had not to scream.

It seemed like an eternity before Watari finally stopped. "Okay, all done," the scientist said. "I cleaned all of your wounds, but I only wrapped the deepest ones because they'll take the longest to heal. Do you think you can stand?"

Tsuzuki nodded as he struggled to his feet. He took a few shaky steps, leaning heavily on the counter before he collapsed. Watari tried to catch him, but Tsuzuki held out his hand to keep the scientist way. "I'm fine," he grit through clenched teeth.

He forced himself to stand again, but he barely made it to his bedroom before a coughing fit started to rack his thin frame. Exhausted, he slumped down onto his bed and turned away from the larger man, trying to pretend that he wasn't coughing up blood. Watari pretended not to notice.

Instead, the scientist pulled the blankets up over the smaller man's shoulders and knelt down next to the bed. He sat there and waited silently for Tsuzuki's breathing to even out before he spoke.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Tsuzuki only buried himself deeper under the covers, and Watari closed his eyes in a quiet understanding. "All right, I'll be here if you need me," he said and left the room. His voice seemed so different that Tsuzuki almost didn't recognize it, and if he had been facing the larger man, the seriousness on the scientist's face would have startled him.

* * *

Watari closed the bedroom door, letting out a string of colorful words as he began to pace back and forth.

"Did he say what happened?" Gabriel asked, watching the other man's slightly unnerving movement.

"He didn't need to. He did it to himself."

"He did this . . . ?" Gabriel eyed the amount of blood that covered the kitchen floor, "to himself . . . ? How do you know?"

Watari sighed, raking his hands roughly through his blonde hair. "Because this isn't the first time that it's happened."

The larger man gave him a questioning look, and Watari elaborated. "When Tsuzuki first became a shinigami, he wasn't exactly . . . stable. He was new and scared and he just couldn't handle it or even keep a partner for more than a few weeks at a time, which was why they paired him with Tatsumi. They thought that because he was calmer and more mature that he'd be able to handle him. They were mostly right, but after every case Tsuzuki would do something like this. He just couldn't deal with the guilt. Eventually he stopped . . . or maybe he just learned how to hide it better. I'm not so sure anymore."

Watari took a deep breath. "I don't know what happened when he was alive, and I don't want to, but he's not okay, and I don't think he ever really has been."

"And that's why you're so worried about him right now, isn't it? Because he's so hurt that he's not even bothering to hide his pain anymore."

"Yeah . . ." the scientist unwillingly glanced toward the kitchen. He couldn't look away no matter how much he tried.

There was something wrong–something so horribly wrong with the sight of the dark red streaks across the milky-white, tiled floor. No matter how much experience he had or how many lives he had taken, he knew that the image would be seared into his memory forever. It wasn't just blood. It was _Tsuzuki's_ blood.

Gabriel followed his gaze. "We really need to get that cleaned up."

"Yeah, you sure you're okay helping me?"

"I'll be fine. It just took me by surprise at first."

Watari sighed, tugging on some tangled strands of hair. "Something just doesn't make sense though. This is random even for Tsuzuki. Unless something happened after I saw him last night–" the scientist abruptly stopped pacing.

"What is it?"

"_Tatsumi_," he seethed. "I saw him go into Tsuzuki's office before I left. I'm not stupid. I know he wasn't fine, but he sure as hell wasn't about to go and do something like this."

The scientist fisted his hands, white knuckled, as he took a few more steps before stopping again. "I need to go talk to him." Watari was about to disappear before glanced back toward the bedroom.

Gabriel noticed his hesitation. "It's all right. Go ahead, I'll stay with him."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's okay. I'm used to it."

Watari nodded and disappeared from the room.

* * *

Watari burst through Tatsumi's office door and slammed it shut so hard that it bounced back open again. He crossed the room in an instant, ramming his hands down on the secretary's desk and towering over him with fire burning in his amber eyes. His hair flared around his face in a wild mess, and even his blood-stained lab coat rippled with choked fury. It was extremely rare for Tatsumi to see Watari angry, but when he did, the other man was absolutely frightening.

"What the _hell_ did you say to him?" the scientist growled.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Watari-san."

"You know damn well what I'm talking about," he hissed. "Because otherwise you would have never sent me and Gabriel to go check on Tsuzuki this morning."

Tatsumi leveled him with a scathing glare, but his voice was slow and calculated when he answered. "Watari-san, I _strongly_ advise that you watch what you say before you go making unfounded accusations. Now, if you would _kindly_ remove your hands from my desk, I have work to do."

"Do you know what you're doing to him?" Watari yelled. "Do you even care? Tsuzuki's been hurt and all you've been doing is making him feel guilty for something that isn't even his fault! But that's all you've ever done, isn't it? You're a condescending bastard who's never once had a kind word to say to him, and right now you're spitting in his face when he needs you the most. So answer my question and tell me what you just _had_ to say to him that–"

Losing his patience, the shadow master suddenly rose to his feet. "Maybe you're asking the wrong question," he snarled back.

Watari paused, giving the other man a long look, and to the secretary's horror, he realized that he had said too much. He could see the pity in the scientist's eyes, and his body instantly grew cold.

Just how much did Watari really know?

Tatsumi clenched the edge of his desk and cursed the other man for being so goddamn perceptive. If he had been speaking to anyone else, it would not have been a problem, but Watari had known him for far too long to be fooled. He needed to end this conversation.

"Get out," he breathed.

Watari sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs across from the secretary's desk. "He hurt you, Tatsumi. I get it. But that gives you _no right _to treat him this way."

A feral smile came to the shadow master's lips. "Oh? Please, enlighten me, how do you suppose he did that?"

"Tatsumi, don't you _dare_ try to deny it because I swear to God I'll never be able to forgive you if you hurt him like this again. What happened wasn't his fault."

"Watari-san, what Tsuzuki-san does with his free time–"

"You just don't get it, do you? Just because Muraki manipulated him into going back doesn't mean that he wanted to. He was raped, Tatsumi. He was _raped_."

Watari suddenly looked tired as he rubbed his hands over his face. "You didn't have to see him this morning. There was blood everywhere. On the floor. On the walls. Even on the ceiling. You–you didn't have to see him lying there. You can't abandon him now, Tatsumi, because he's not going to be around much longer if you do. It's only a matter of time before he does it again and again until it finally works or he calls one of his shikigami. Do you really want what happened in Kyoto to happen again? Do you really want him to hate himself that much? Because whether you want to admit it or not, he needs you right now, Tatsumi."

Watari went quiet for a moment. "If this keeps up . . . we really are going to loose him . . . His wounds aren't healing, and it's scaring the hell out of me," Watari looked directly at Tatsumi. "And it should scare you too because that means he really is at his limit. My guess is that he's been forcing himself to heal every morning even when he didn't have the strength for it."

". . . To hide it from us."

"Yes."

Watari let his words sink in before he glared at the secretary one last time and left the room without another word. He briefly stopped in front of Tsuzuki and Hisoka's office on his way out and saw the young boy doing his best to focus on his work.

"You better have been listening to every word because it applies to you too," he said before disappearing down the hallway.

* * *

Gabriel wiped the sweat off of his forehead and looked around the spotless kitchen. It had taken him almost all morning to clean everything up, and he was glad to finally finish: being in the kitchen made his skin itch.

He took it upon himself to remove all of the sharp objects from the apartment, but he knew that if Tsuzuki really wanted to do it again, it would not stop him. He sighed and glanced down at his watch. It was nearly noon. What was taking Watari so long? He felt like an intruder in Tsuzuki's home, so he really didn't want to be the one to check on the smaller man, but he couldn't put it off any longer.

"Tsuzuki-san?" he asked, knocking lightly on the smaller man's bedroom door.

"Mn."

"Can I come in?"

Gabriel thought he heard the sheets rustle, but other than that, there was no answer. He waited a moment longer before saying, "You know, I can't see you if you're nodding your head."

There was a pause, then a meek, "Sure."

Gabriel opened the door only to find two hazy, violet eyes peaking out at him like butterfly wings from beneath the blankets.

"Hungry?" he asked, setting a bowl down on the night stand.

"Not really . . ."

"Why don't you try to eat a little anyway?"

Tsuzuki glanced sideways at the bowl. "What is it?"

"Instant ramen."

Gabriel noticed the smaller man's reluctance. "Hey, don't look at it like that," he said jokingly. "I pride myself on my ability to boil water. I've honed the technique to perfection."

The blonde thought that he saw a flicker of a smile, but it was gone almost instantly.

"I guess I could try some . . ."

Tsuzuki was in obvious pain as he struggled to sit up, but Gabriel knew better than to try to help him. His arms and torso were almost entirely covered by bandages, so he kept the blankets firmly wrapped around his body as he started to eat. He picked at the noodles with his chopsticks for a little while before he realized how hungry he was, and he vaguely remembered that he hadn't eaten in a few days.

Gabriel busied himself by cleaning up the broken mirror in the bathroom while he waited for the smaller man to finish.

"I-I'm sorry . . ." he heard Tsuzuki's quite voice say from the bedroom. "You don't have to do that . . . I-I can do it later . . . you don't have to stay here . . . I know you probably–"

"Hey, it's all right. I don't mind."

There was a pause while Tsuzuki stared down at his food. "Watari went to go tell him, didn't he?"

Gabriel didn't need to ask to know that he meant Tatsumi. "Yeah, he did."

Tsuzuki set the bowl aside and sank back down underneath the covers, hugging a stuffed dog to his chest. "I . . . I can't go back there and face everyone . . . I can't face him."

"They're just worried about you, you know."

"Not Tatsumi . . ." he whispered quietly.

Gabriel leaned against the bathroom doorway. "Are you really so sure about that?"

Tsuzuki opened his mouth but then closed it again wordlessly. "Yes."

"You should have more faith in him. He's the one who sent us here this morning."

"He was?" the smaller man asked unable to keep the anxiousness out of his voice.

"Yes. Granted, he wanted us to bring you into work, but I think that was just his own way of sending someone to check on you. Anyway, I should let you get some more sleep."

"Gabriel?" Tsuzuki asked before the larger man could close the door.

"Hmm?"

Tsuzuki twisted the blanket in his hands, avoiding the other man's pale blue eyes. "I-I don't regret what happened . . . I just regret that they found out . . . Does that make me a horrible person?"

"No, it makes you human."

* * *

Late that night, Tatsumi woke with a start. He was doused in a cold sweat, and a shadow of a name escaped his lips as he fisted his pristine sheets–something that had been happening as of late.

The shadow master showered and dressed for work–never mind the fact that it was three a.m. Sleep had rejected him, and he had stopped trying after the first hour. Besides, he desperately needed a distraction, and he figured that he might as well get an early start. He teleported to the ministry, knowing that he would have the building to himself.

The hollow sound of his footsteps echoed in the darkened hallway before he stopped in front of Tsuzuki's office. No, that wasn't quite right. It was Tsuzuki and Hisoka's office now. Tatsumi smiled bitterly to himself. It had even been his and Tsuzuki's. Once.

Tatsumi was never one for sentimentality, but he found himself going in and sitting down at Tsuzuki's desk. It was where his old desk used to be, and the familiarity helped him ease his hold over his shadows. He had unconsciously wound his power over them so tight that he could feel his control starting to snap: never before had his bloodlust been so great.

He watched as his shadows slowly bled through the walls like thick tears before they gathered together in mats of feathered, black hair. They were hardly able to contain their furry as they swept around the room in large circles, penetrating everything in sight. They craved revenge, but for now, they would have to wait.

Muraki would not be a problem for much longer.

He had a right do be angry . . . didn't he? After all their years of friendship, Tsuzuki didn't even have the decency to tell him that he was with someone else. He had to find the two of them in bed together before the smaller man would even admit to it.

Yet that's all it was. A friendship. And even that was strained at best. Tsuzuki didn't owe him an explanation, and he definitely didn't owe him any sort of loyalty. He was being unfair and he knew it, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he was being stabbed every time Tsuzuki dared to look at him.

Tatsumi closed his eyes and rested his head in his arms. The lights were off, and the room was black, but Tsuzuki's scent still lingered.

* * *

"_Guess what today is?" Tsuzuki sang as he hovered over his partner's desk._

_Tatsumi glared at the shadow that the smaller man cast over his report before slowly moving it out of his way. "I do not know, nor do I care. However, you are probably going to tell me anyway, so go ahead."_

"_It's the Gion festival in Kyoto, and today they're having the parade! Can we go after we're done with our report? Pretty please? I've never gone before, and it'll have lots of different foods and games and–"_

_Tatsumi's eyebrow twitched as he looked down at the report that __he__ was working on. Tsuzuki had been fidgety all day, and he couldn't even get the other man to sit still for more than five minutes, let alone get any work done._

"_Why would I want to go to the festival with you?" he asked icily. After all, they weren't friends, and he certainly was not required to spend time with this idiot outside of office hours. It was bad enough that they were forced to partner together in the first place._

"_O-Oh . . . I-I dunno . . . sorry . . ." the smaller man stammered, staring down at the floor. "I just thought . . . maybe because we're partners that . . . Well, never mind! Sorry to bother you!" he said, forcing a painful smile to his face._

_Tatsumi closed his eyes, mentally cringing at what he had done. Normally he didn't mind reducing his coworkers to tears, but there was something different about Tsuzuki. He had a certain desperateness that tugged at the shadow master's heart and made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He tried to ignore it, but he found himself opening his mouth before he could stop himself. "Tsuzuki-san," he said gently, "I would be happy to accompany you."_

"_R-really?" Tsuzuki sniffed, brightening._

_A gracious smile escaped his partner's lips. "Yes, go get ready. I will meet you in front of the Shinnyo Temple in an hour."_

* * *

_It was raining. _

_Well of course it was raining, Tatsumi thought irritably. It only rained during festivals. Despite the fact that it was only seven o'clock, it was already dark outside, and the streets were illuminated by hundreds of small, red lanterns hanging from shops and trees. A narrow river ran alongside the street, reflecting the orange and red lights like tiny fireworks as it was assaulted by the rain._

_Most of the people were wearing their summer yukata which splashed waves of color throughout the gray streets like lotus flowers bursting into blossom. The women adorned themselves with hair pieces and charms unique to each of them, and their wooden shoes clicked against the smooth stone comfortingly._

_Tatsumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Where was Tsuzuki? As much as he didn't mind watching the people go by, he hated waiting–especially in the rain. The shadow master cursed his own weakness. He knew that he should not have given in to the other man, but there was just something about his pleading eyes that made his pulse race._

_Whatever it was, he didn't like it._

"_I'm here!" Tsuzuki called out from the other side of the street as he ran over to the larger man. _

"_Sorry it took me so long. I got lost on my way back to my apartment again," he panted, trying to catch his breath._

_Tatsumi hid his smirk. "I am not surprised. Well, what would you like to do first?"_

"_Oh, let's get something to eat. I'm starving!" Tsuzuki started down the street, but Tatsumi grabbed his arm before he could go any further._

"_Not yet," he said, reaching out to fix the smaller man's collar. "Honestly, Tsuzuki-san, we are out in public. You could at least try to make yourself look halfway decent, couldn't you?"_

_A blush rose to the smaller man's face at the shadow master's touch. "S-sorry. I-I can do it . . ."_

"_Of course you can," Tatsumi said unconvincingly. He ignored Tsuzuki's protests and only backed away once he was satisfied with the smaller man's appearance. "All right, now we can go."_

_Tatsumi opened his umbrella and stepped out from beneath the cluster of trees. Tsuzuki looked up as he followed behind him. "It's raining . . ." he pouted as though he had just become aware of the fact._

"_You should have brought an umbrella."_

"_I didn't think of it . . ."_

_Tatsumi sighed in defeat. "Really, must I do everything for you? Come here," he said, holding his umbrella out for both of them. _

"_Yay, thank you!" Tsuzuki beamed and bounced next to the larger man happily._

_Tsuzuki led the way for a little while, and Tatsumi let him because he didn't particularly care where they went. It was almost enjoyable to see Tsuzuki so excited and filled with curiosity. _

_Almost. _

_Tsuzuki clasped his hands together and pointed enthusiastically at one of the stands. _

"_Ohhh, Tatsumi! Look!"_

_The larger man cringed at the casualness in which his name was said. They had only been partners for a month, and Tsuzuki had already dropped all formalities._

"_What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?" he asked with a well put upon sigh._

"_The koi! They're so pretty."_

_Tatsumi didn't have to look into the other man's large, amethyst eyes to know what was coming next. He counted to three, and right on cue, Tsuzuki asked, "Can we get one? Please, Tatsumi?"_

"_And what would you do with it? You cannot bring it back to the Meifu with you."_

"_Oh . . . yeah . . . I didn't think of that . . ." he said, noticeably wilting._

"_Here, why don't you get one of these instead?" Tatsumi asked, pointing to a small stand filled with stuffed animals. _

_It was late in the evening so there weren't very many left, but Tsuzuki was instantly drawn to one. He held up a furry, black puppy for Tatsumi to see. It had white spots on its forehead and chest that clearly showed all of the dirt that was covering it. The fur was falling out in some places, and it looked like one of its legs was ripped halfway off, but Tsuzuki displayed it proudly._

"_Are you sure you want that one? It looks like one of the rickshaws ran over it. How about this one instead?" Tatsumi asked, holding up a white and brown rabbit._

_Tsuzuki hugged the small dog protectively. "No!" he said with surprising defensiveness. "This is the only one that I want. You can see how lonely it looks . . . no one else wanted it . . ."_

_Tsuzuki reached into his pocket and pulled out a few small coins, but his face fell as soon as he counted them. He clutched the small dog to his chest, trying to hold back his tears. "I'm sorry . . ." he whimpered, nuzzling his face into its fur. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you either . . . I can't save anyone . . ." _

_There was that look again. That horrible look that made the shadow master want to scream and beg the other man to stop. He could feel his carefully placed defenses slowly crashing down like ancient ruins as the smaller man's sorrow bore into his soul, shaking his very being. It was all too familiar, and Tatsumi knew that he would do anything to soothe the smaller man's pain._

_Before Tsuzuki could put the dog back, Tatsumi took out his wallet and handed the stand owner some money._

_Tsuzuki blinked stupidly at his partner for a moment. "I'm sorry, Tatsumi . . . I'll pay you back next week. It's just that I didn't get paid yet and . . ."_

"_There is no need, Tsuzuki-san. It is a gift."_

"_. . . A gift?"_

_Tatsumi offered him a rare smile and Tsuzuki beamed under it. "Did you hear that Mochi-chan? You're a present from Tatsumi."_

"_Mochi-chan?"_

"_Yup, that's what I named him."_

_Tatsumi grinned evilly as they walked. "Although if you really feel that bad about it, I will just make you pay for everything from this point on."_

"_Eh, ah, no, that's okay, Tatsumi, really . . ."_

"_No, I insist. It is the least that I can do."_

_As the crowds slowly started to dissipate, the two men found a dry patch on one of the small, stone bridges and sat down. The rain had finally let up, and the stars were just starting to peek out from their hiding places like playful children._

_Tatsumi watched as Tsuzuki sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the bridge, letting his bare feet graze the surface of the water. The smaller man sat closer to him than he was comfortable with, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. He could feel the warmth from the other man's body compared to the cold stone beneath him, and he found himself holding his breath every time their shoulders brushed. _

_He closed his eyes, soaking in the festive music and the gentle sloshing of the river. Sitting with Tsuzuki was . . . nice. It was like the other man radiated a warm light that calmed him and washed away the tension that always seemed to be strangling him throughout the day. _

Maybe coming here was not so bad after all . . .

"_Hmmh," Tsuzuki murmured softly, bringing the larger man out of his reverie._

"_What is it?" Tatsumi asked, slowly opening his eyes._

"_You're smiling . . . I was starting to think that it wasn't possible."_

"_You have seen me smile before."_

"_They're never real though."_

_Tatsumi gave the smaller man a pensive look. "Neither are yours," he said quietly. "But . . . perhaps I had just forgotten how."_

"_I'm glad it worked then," Tsuzuki said happily._

_Tatsumi's eyes narrowed. "What worked exactly?"_

"_Well . . . you're always in such a bad mood, and I think it might be my fault a lot of the time . . . That's why I wanted you to come with me today. I thought maybe if you got out of that stuffy office you might have some fun . . ." Tsuzuki looked down, petting the stuffed dog in his lap. "I just wanted Tatsumi to be happy too . . ."_

_Tatsumi barely managed to hide his surprise. No one had ever tried to do something so kind for him before. Actually, most people were terrified of him and avoided him at all costs. The fact that he encouraged this was completely besides the point. Still, that didn't answer his nagging question. "Why . . . ?"_

"_Because . . . you're the first friend I've ever had . . ." the smaller man said shyly._

_With those simple words, Tatsumi instantly regretted how cold he had been to the other man over the past month. As often as Tsuzuki got on his nerves, he really did always try to please him, and Tatsumi had only repaid him with clipped sentences and a harsh tone. He silently vowed that he would be gentler with the smaller man when he suddenly felt Tsuzuki's head resting against his shoulder. _

_He didn't even realize that he had stopped breathing until Tsuzuki uttered his name in a small and distant voice. _

"_Y-yes?"_

"_It's never going to get easier, is it?" he asked quietly. "Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces . . . that old man . . . that little boy . . ."_

_Tatsumi stared out at the water. He couldn't answer him. He couldn't extinguish that last flicker of light by telling him that it would never stop hurting. It made his heart ache to see that kind of emptiness in the other man's eyes, and he hated Tsuzuki for putting him in that position. He hated waking up at night to hear Tsuzuki crying, and he hated the way Tsuzuki cut himself after each case. _

_But most of all, he hated himself for letting him. _

"_It can't," Tsuzuki said, answering his own question. "And even if it did, that means we really wouldn't be like them anymore . . . But maybe . . . maybe it won't be so bad if you're here . . ."_

"_My being here helps?"_

_Tsuzuki nodded. "It doesn't hurt so much when you're around . . ."_

"_Then I'll always stay by your side."_

_Two months later he ended their partnership._

* * *

In one swift movement, Tatsumi shoved everything off of the desk and pressed his hands to his face.

"What a fool I've been . . ."


	6. Chapter 6

"So _then_, then I said to him, 'You know, I don't know about an olive, but I bet a fish stick would work!'" Watari laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes, but he was only met with a collective groan from Gabriel and Hisoka.

"Oh come on! It was funny!"

When the other two shinigami only shook their heads, Watari turned to Tsuzuki. "You at least thought it was good, right?"

"Huh? What?" the smaller man asked, looking up from his desk. Watari and Gabriel had been lounging around his office all afternoon, and when the scientist began discussing the finer points of bioinformatics, he started tuning the other man out.

"You weren't even listening!" Watari complained, touching his hand to his heart and pretending to look hurt.

"Sorry," Tsuzuki managed. He glanced over at Hisoka, hoping that the boy would at least be mumbling something about him, but his partner was pointedly ignoring him.

Hisoka had barely spoken to him all day, and he hadn't even seen Tatsumi yet. Watari had been keeping a close eye on him much to his displeasure, but he really didn't seem to have a choice in the matter. As much as he appreciated what Watari was trying to do, he was ready to throttle the other man. He couldn't even sneeze without the scientist looking over his shoulder, and he hated being monitored like a child.

"Oh, Tsuzuki," Watari said, looking thoughtful. "We're leaving on a new case later tonight, and we'll probably be gone for at least a day or two, so I was thinking–"

"I don't need a babysitter," Tsuzuki snapped, suddenly leaving the office.

A deadening silence filled the room before Watari slowly turned toward Gabriel. "There's something that I've been meaning to ask you . . ." he said quietly. "How did you know where we were the night that we went to go find Tsuzuki?"

Gabriel raised a slender eyebrow. "I thought that it would have been obvious."

"He's a seer," Hisoka interrupted, clearly annoyed that the other two men were still in his office.

"You're . . . ohh. Oh!" Watari paused for a moment. "So that's why your eyes . . ."

"Yeah, that's why I thought it was obvious."

"Wow, so you knew exactly where we were just by seeing it?"

"Of course not. I just saw you guys looking pretty tense in the lab, so I stopped by. You left your computer on," he said dryly.

"Oh," Watari drooped, looking mildly disappointed. "So how does it work exactly?" the scientist asked as he started searching for a pen.

"It really depends. Sometimes I'll see images or situations or even just a color or an object. They come and go on their own though. It's not exactly something that I can control," Gabriel paused as Watari started writing on his hand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking notes of course. You never know when this stuff will come in handy."

"Ah . . ."

* * *

Later that evening, Tsuzuki lay sprawled across the couch in his office, throwing sharpened pencils up at the ceiling.

He had spent the entire day avoiding people because everyone kept acting like they were walking on broken glass whenever he was around. It was impossible to clear his head with everyone casting him sideways looks, and he desperately wanted to just crawl into a hole and hide. The whispering had finally stopped, but only because his coworkers were too afraid that if they said the wrong thing, he was going to break. Watari and Gabriel were the only two people who were still speaking to him, and the truth was, that terrified him most of all.

Tsuzuki knew that it would only be a matter of time before they wouldn't be able to deal with him either. The only other person who had ever seen him in such a position was Tatsumi–right before he ended their partnership. If the shadow master couldn't even stay, he couldn't expect them to either.

Tsuzuki threw another pencil up at the ceiling. It was a crazy idea, but Watari and Gabriel would be gone for at least a day or two, and Tatsumi and Hisoka had been avoiding him. No one would _actually_ think that he would be stupid enough to go back . . . He yanked his hands through his dark brown hair and grabbed his trench coat before leaving.

Tsuzuki teleported inside Muraki's house, but a quick look around showed him that the other man wasn't there. Disappointed, he curled up in the middle of the bed, wondering what he was doing. It wasn't a good idea to be there, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. The bed was big and warm, and it swallowed him up like a bird in a giant nest. He knew that Tatsumi would never forgive him for going back, but things were already so bad between them that it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. Tatsumi hadn't spoken to him since that night, and he already found himself missing the other man. All of his tiny gestures made the long years seem a little more bearable, and without them, he was miserable. Even if the secretary was just straightening his tie or wiping his face, for those brief moments, he could pretend like he was the most important person in the world to the other man.

On some occasions, when he was feeling particularly lonely, he'd latch onto Tatsumi in a playful hug if the other man had done something exceptionally nice. He did it under the guise of being excited, but just for that one moment, Tatsumi would hold him, and that feeling would stay with him for days.

Tsuzuki had been vacantly staring off into space when he realized that he was looking right at one of Muraki's porcelain dolls. It was seated carefully on the bookshelf in a brand-new mauve, satin dress lined with Venice lace, and it seemed to be gazing back at him just as intently. Tsuzuki closed his eyes, hoping to block out that frigid, blank stare: he didn't want to think of how many times he must have had that same look.

He could still feel the glass eyes on him, and he couldn't get rid of the sickening feeling that he was being watched. That eerie lifelessness was probably the reason why Muraki liked the doll in the first place. He could imagine the doctor's fingertips ghosting over its blonde curls, stripping away its old, royal-blue dress and replacing it with the new one. After all, it was the same care that the larger man took while undressing him.

Tsuzuki sank deeper into the blankets and let out a tired sigh. He could practically feel the other man's hot breath on his neck and soft chuckle in his ear.

"It is not wise to let your guard down this much, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki flinched backwards so suddenly that he nearly fell off the bed, but Muraki caught him and seized his lips in a kiss before he had time to protest.

"I must admit. I am impressed. I didn't think that you would be able to get away so soon." Muraki stood and held out his hand. "Shall we go? I'd hate for us to get interrupted a second time."

Tsuzuki looked at Muraki's hand wearily. "Where are we going?"

"Back to one of my mansions in Tokyo."

Tsuzuki took his hand, and they reappeared in front of a large, wrought-iron fence which blocked the way up to the house. The mansion was clearly built with Western influences, and based on the pure size alone, Tsuzuki couldn't even imagine having more than one. Yet he couldn't help but smirk. "What, no gargoyles?"

"You and I both know that I prefer to keep my demons out of sight."

Muraki noticed Tsuzuki's skeptic look. "Don't worry. They won't be able to find us here. This gate isn't the only thing protecting this house."

Tsuzuki paused, glancing up at the other man. "Then why haven't we been coming here the whole time?"

Muraki flashed him an infuriating smile. "Hmm, I wonder?"

"You . . . you . . ." Tsuzuki sputtered helplessly. "You bastard, you wanted them to find us!"

"I suppose it did add a certain element of intrigue," the larger man said, closing the gate behind them. "Although I was slightly disappointed, I expected them to figure it out much sooner, but perhaps I gave them too much credit?"

Tsuzuki shoved his hands into his pockets and sulkily walked the rest of the way up to the mansion in silence.

"You should feel honored. Very few have seen my home," Muraki said, unlocking the front door. "Although you'll have to excuse the condition of the house, I've temporarily dismissed all of my servants."

Tsuzuki couldn't quite figure out what Muraki was trying to excuse. The front door opened up into a large foyer with black-marble floors and long columns that seemed to stretch on for an eternity before reaching the domed ceiling.

"They don't know that you're back, do they?"

Muraki cocked his head to the side with a smile. "Why Tsuzuki-san, I didn't know that you were so interested in my affairs."

"Don't flatter yourself," Tsuzuki replied as he wandered over to look at one of the renaissance paintings along the wall. He only caught a glimpse of the living room with its blood-red walls and monstrous furniture before Muraki led him up the staircase.

The giant labyrinth of the second floor had dozens of rooms, but all of the doors were closed except for one. Curious, Tsuzuki peeked in, but he only saw a tiny glimmer of light before the larger man shut the door.

"This way."

Muraki led him into the bedroom at the end of the hall and closed the door behind them. The bed was displayed prominently in the center of the room, and a set of bookshelves filled with old medical journals lined the left wall, while a balcony overlooking the gardens was along the right. Muraki stood in the middle of the room, observing Tsuzuki who had backed himself up against the door out of habit.

"Well?" the larger man asked. "Did you come here to get acquainted with my walls, or was there something that you wanted?"

Tsuzuki swallowed and crossed the room, closing the space between them. He tilted his head upward and wrapped his arms around Muraki's neck, capturing the other man's lips with his own. Each movement was timid and unsure, almost as though he expected to be stopped, but as Muraki responded to his demands, he soon worked himself into a frenzied rush. Ripping Muraki's dress shirt off of his broad shoulders, he pulled the larger man down onto the bed and frantically worked at tearing their pants off.

If Muraki was surprised to see the smaller man's bandaged wounds, he didn't show it. He simply took his time worshiping every inch of the toned body beneath him. Entwining their hands together, he kissed along Tsuzuki's faint scar lines, offering apologetic licks over each one that he himself had inflicted.

Tsuzuki ground his teeth in frustration. "Stop it. Stop being so fucking gentle."

"Oh?"

"You don't have to do it this way just because they found us together last time. I'm fine."

Muraki chuckled. It was a low purr at first, but his voice gradually swelled with volume until he was emitting great peals of laughter that made Tsuzuki's blood run cold. It was a few moments before the larger man was able to speak again, but when he did, his voice was deep and delirious with lust. "What makes you think that I'm doing this to please you?"

Muraki leaned down just inches above the smaller man's face with such a murderous look in his eyes that Tsuzuki couldn't help but recoil. "I love the way you look when I break you into thousands of pieces. So for tonight, I'll take you like this until you go mad with the realization of what you're doing."

He traced Tsuzuki's jaw line with his finger. "Is this how you imagined real lovers would do it?" he smirked with a hint of malice in his voice. "With so much tenderness that you'd rather die than endure it any longer? You're far too tainted for anyone else to ever want you."

"I know that."

"Do you?" Muraki nipped at his ear. "Then show me. Let me taste that dark power of yours. You've got it coiled so tightly; I can feel it just barely out of my reach."

"I can't . . . If I let go, even for a second, I won't be able to stop it. I can't do that . . . not-not again."

Muraki's eyes gleamed in delight. "So you _do_ remember what happened while you were alive?"

Tsuzuki swallowed, ". . . Yes."

"Everything?"

"Yes . . ." he whispered, melting into the other man's kiss.

Muraki's power was hot and dangerous, and it radiated off of him in thick waves as he devoured the smaller man. He moved so agonizingly slowly that Tsuzuki could feel every inch of his body reluctantly yielding to the larger man.

He shivered, but in disgust or in pleasure, he couldn't tell anymore.

* * *

In all actuality, it was the light that had woken Tsuzuki. It had timidly danced over his eyelids like a piece of melting chocolate rolling over one's tongue until he had stirred. His body ached in a painfully humiliating way that made sleep nearly impossible, so he lay awake, watching as the room was consumed by the ethereal glow of the moon. It washed the crisp, white sheets clean, and he lightly ran his fingers over them seduced by that silvery-blue hue.

Even the doctor looked different under the moon's cleansing light. It softened his strong features and cast a pearly incandescence over his platinum-white hair. He almost looked . . . peaceful. Tsuzuki smiled to himself. Human even.

He entwined his arms around Muraki's body and hugged him close, burying his face deep into the other man's silver hair. It was difficult to breathe with the larger man resting on top of him, but Tsuzuki didn't dare to move him. The weight was a solid, comforting presence. He tightened his grip, hoping that if he could just get close enough, he'd be able to lose himself in the illusion of love.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes, taking in the other man's scent. There had been so many nights like this while he'd still been alive. He'd lie awake in his hospital bed, staring out the tiny window with only his thoughts for company. He could only remember fleeting moments of clarity, but even then, he could feel his sanity slipping through his fingers as easily as the moonlight.

Muraki shifted, and he could tell that the larger man was staring at him because of the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Tsuzuki glanced out the window at the silvery moon. "You know, you never answered my question," he said distantly.

"And which was that?" Muraki asked, propping his head up with one hand.

"When I asked about when we met in the church. You never told me why you were crying."

Running a hand through his hair, Muraki fixed his gaze on the ceiling. "Would I really do something so human?"

The smaller man sighed. "So you still won't answer me then."

"Trying to find some good in me, Tsuzuki-san?"

"I was just curious, that's all."

"And why would I tell the man who burned one of my finest laboratories to the ground, taking my dear brother and nearly myself with it?" his voice was dull and detached despite the venom in his words.

Tsuzuki was quiet for a long moment. "Maybe we really should have died that night," he whispered.

Muraki raised a slender eyebrow. "So what's stopping you now?"

"My shikigami. Eleven of them made a pact to protect me. They won't let it happen again."

"And what if I told you that I was close to obtaining such power?"

". . . Something that could kill a shinigami?"

"Perhaps. After all, modern science is advancing so rapidly that it really should not come as a surprise to you."

Tsuzuki felt so sick that he almost wanted to laugh. "So that's why you haven't told anyone that you've returned, isn't it? You didn't want to divide your time between your research and your work as a doctor. So this is your current obsession then?" he asked bitterly.

"Jealous, Tsuzuki-san?"

"Why . . . why can't you just . . ."

Muraki leaned over, silencing him with a kiss, and for one brief second, Tsuzuki thought that he saw a glimpse of emptiness in the other man's eyes.

". . . Why are you like this?"

"Because I can't be anyway else."

And with that, he was upon him once more.

* * *

Watari flipped the lights on in the lab and tossed the case report on one of the tables.

"You're lucky. For your first case, that actually went pretty well. It's always easier when they go willingly."

Gabriel rubbed his hands over his face. "Yeah, I can only imagine."

"We should celebrate. There's this really great club in Tokyo that I haven't been to in _ages_."

"What's been keeping you?"

"Well, I normally go out with Tsuzuki, but with everything that's happened, I really don't think it's a good idea to take him out drinking right now. And I would take Tatsumi, but he outright refuses to," Watari sighed dramatically. "Honestly, the man doesn't know how to have fun. I really don't think he's even capable of it anymore. That only leaves Bon, but he looks so young that they won't even let him in. And the Chief . . . oh God, don't even get me started."

Gabriel smirked. "What about the Gushoshin?"

Watari gave him a withering look and threw a pen at him. "Very funny."

The larger man laughed. "All right, all right, if you really want to go that badly, I'll go with you."

"Really?" Watari brightened.

Gabriel sighed. "Yeah . . ."

* * *

"Wait," Gabriel said, stopping dead in front of the building. "When you said 'club' you never said anything about karaoke. Dancing I can handle, but . . ."

"Come _on_! It's not so bad," Watari encouraged, dragging the horrified looking man into the building. "Besides, they've only got karaoke in the rooms upstairs on Friday nights."

"It _is_ a Friday night," the larger man pointed out.

"Minor details, minor details," Watari dismissed easily.

Gabriel slunk back toward the bar and immediately ordered a drink, downing it in one gulp. He was in the process of ordering his third when Watari tried to pull him off of his stool.

"Come on, you should dance. You look bored just sitting there."

Gabriel gave him a tired look. "I'd rather not."

Watari tilted his head to the side. "I thought you said that you could handle dancing?"

"Yes, but I never said that I would."

"All right, suit yourself," the scientist said with a wave of his hand as he left toward the dance floor again.

Gabriel watched Watari's fluid movements as he danced, and he couldn't help but smile. The other man looked genuinely happy. It was almost startling to see someone so cheerful. He still wasn't quite convinced that it was always real, but for now, he wouldn't question it.

The blonde ordered another shot, but before the amber liquid could reach his lips, his vision grew blurry and the bar faded from sight.

_Sunlight pelted him from all sides, blinding him and forcing him to squint. When his eyes finally adjusted, he found himself in the middle of a forest clearing. A white sunrise peeked over the horizon, filling the forest with so much light that he could almost taste the honey-like warmth._

_Overhead, the canopy of leaves swayed gently, raining viridian-green shadows down across the forest floor, and Gabriel closed his eyes. He could hear . . . music? No, not music. Whispering. The forest was talking to him . . . but what was it saying?_

_Gabriel shook his head in frustration. It was impossible to tell. Whatever it was, it was in no language he had ever heard before. The only thing he knew for sure was that something was calling him, and he couldn't resist the incredible urge to find it._

_He took off at a run–unsure of where he was going until he came across an old tree with a trunk as knotted and twisted as a piece of Celtic jewelry. At the base of the tree, a small river trickled past him, but what caught Gabriel's eye was the single, white water-lily floating on the surface of the water._

_He stared at it for a moment certain that he could feel the pulse of a heartbeat through that one, tiny flower. It was almost as though the forest itself was a living, breathing being. He swallowed and reached out to touch it, but right before he could, the lily vanished._

* * *

Gabriel woke to find Watari hovering over him. His face was drenched and the room spun dizzily, but he could still make out the empty water glass in the other man's hand.

"Hey, you okay? How much did you have to drink?" the scientist asked.

Gabriel pressed his palms to his face, trying to tame his migraine as he sat up. "About three shots of scotch."

Watari blinked. "That's it?"

"Yeah . . ."

After Gabriel managed to pry himself up off of the bar-room floor, he explained what had happened. Watari quietly listened to him without interrupting, and at the end, he only had one question for the other man.

"So . . . that means what, exactly?" he asked with a befuddled look.

"Actually, I was kind of hoping that you would know."

"Have your visions always been so arcane?"

Gabriel laughed. "What, you mean you don't think our next case will involve a talking forest with a pulsing flower? I'm shocked. But no, usually they're pretty confusing, but never this bad. I hardly ever had them while I was alive, and only after I became a shinigami did they become so vivid, but not like this. I can't explain it though . . . that place just felt so . . . _right_."

"You know what this means, don't you?" the scientist asked as he started heading toward the door. "We've got research to do."

* * *

Tatsumi hesitated before knocking lightly on Tsuzuki's office door. It was odd that Hisoka had already gone home for the night and that Tsuzuki was staying unusually late, but what really bothered him was the fact that the door was closed. The smaller man always kept it wide open so anyone could wander in and distract him, so it was slightly unsettling to see it shut.

"It's not locked," he heard Tsuzuki's distant voice say.

Tatsumi let himself in to find Tsuzuki leaning over his desk, lazily writing in his slanted, cryptic chicken-scratch. His eyes were partly lidded and he seemed to be nearly half asleep when he jumped slightly as he caught sight of the secretary.

Tatsumi wished with his entire being that the other man wasn't so startled by his presence, but there was no mistaking the panicked look in Tsuzuki's eyes. The worst part was that he knew he had put that look there. Too ashamed of his behavior, it had taken him two days to work up the courage to face the smaller man again, so he forced himself to resist the overwhelming urge to bolt from the room.

They silently studied each other for a moment before Tatsumi broke the silence.

"You've been working pretty hard lately, haven't you?" he asked gently. He crossed the room and sat down on the couch, placing a tray of tea on the small table. "Why don't you come take a break?" he asked, motioning to the seat next to him.

Tsuzuki was too shocked to do anything except nod and join him. He shakily took a hot cup from the other man and sipped it before setting it back down. "Tsujiri's powdered green tea . . ."

"Tsuzuki-sa–"

"You probably just came for the paper work–" he interrupted, staring down at his hands.

"Tsuzuki-sa–"

"I already finished mine, so I started on Hisoka's today, and I'm almost done with it; I just have a small stack left and then I've got–"

"_Tsuzuki-san_," the secretary said, placing his hand under Tsuzuki's chin and forcing the smaller man to look at him. "Tsuzuki-san, I am sorry . . . I am so sorry."

The smaller man paused, looking up at him with eyes that were so wide and heartbreakingly expressive like tiny treasures just waiting to be found, and in that instant, Tsuzuki was in his arms.

Tatsumi sucked in his breath paralyzed by the feel of the other man's warm body pressed against his own. It was just a hug he told himself. Tsuzuki couldn't possibly mean anything by it . . . But if that was the case, then why did he feel like his heart would burst at any moment?

"Tatsumi . . ."

Tatsumi rested his head against the smaller man's and held him close as though he were a child. "Shhh, it's all right now. Everything is all right now."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Tsuzuki choked, burying his face into the other man's neck. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I know. I know."

They held each other for a long while, neither one wanting to move, and it wasn't until after the tea had gone cold that Tatsumi dared to let himself speak. "Come, I will take you back to your apartment. It's not good for you to be here this late."

Tsuzuki nodded, and without breaking their embrace, they left the office.

Glancing around the room, the secretary found himself sitting on Tsuzuki's bed. It had been years since he had last been in the other man's apartment, but nothing had changed. The walls were still as pale and as blue as he remembered, and the bed was still in the middle of the room against the left wall with the dresser across from it along the right.

"You've been sleeping on the floor?" the shadow master asked as he caught sight of the blankets.

Tsuzuki only nodded into his chest.

"Why?"

"When I sleep in my bed, I always wake up . . . thinking he's here."

Tatsumi tried not to stiffen. "It's all right. He can't hurt you anymore, so just rest now."

He used his shadows to bring the blankets up over Tsuzuki's shoulders, and he started to move so that he could properly tuck the smaller man in when he felt Tsuzuki's grip on his shirt tighten.

"Can we stay like this? Can we stay like this, Tatsumi?"

Tatsumi's mouth went dry. He wanted to tell him how it would be inappropriate–how two men couldn't possibly stay in such a position, but he swallowed his words with one look at the smaller man.

"Of course, just get some rest. I'll be right here," he soothed, leaning back against the headboard.

"Good . . ." Tsuzuki whispered, closing his eyes.

Tatsumi didn't know how long he had been sitting there, watching over the smaller man as he slept curled up on his lap. Tsuzuki's hair had fallen over his face, gently moving with each light breath that he took, and Tatsumi longed to brush it aside. His hands twitched nervously before he finally succumbed to his own weakness and let the silky, dark strands slip between his fingertips. He would never admit to anyone how often he had imagined doing this, but he knew that he could only allow the indulgence just this once.

With that simple, repetitive act, Tatsumi could feel the long years that had slowly separated them vanish as though they had never existed at all, and the desire to protect the smaller man blazed as strongly as it had the first day they met.

A fragile smile graced Tsuzuki's lips as he stirred, and Tatsumi froze, horrified, as though he had been caught stealing. Much to his surprise, the smaller man simply snuggled closer to him and reached out for his free hand, pressing it to the side of his face.

"I missed you," he murmured sleepily.

". . . I missed you too," Tatsumi whispered silently to himself.


End file.
